Free Will and Fate
by Sara Winters
Summary: Our lives are not our own. Fate is set, choice is meaningless and the mark of the chosen never truly fades. When Harry finds a way to change his destiny, will the result be better than the path already chosen for him? HP/HG Sequel posted.
1. Prologue: Fidelius

Before anything else registered on his consciousness, Harry was aware of the pain. It possessed his body whole, leaving no part of him unmolested by its poisoned touch, but its root seemed to center at his head. He thought it was caused or enhanced by the lightning bolt-shaped scar that had tattooed its presence on most major events in his life. The constant pain radiating from there served to signal very few things. The most significant, it seemed to Harry, that he was close to dying. That, his barely conscious mind reasoned, is exactly what this felt like. If it was not a sign of his impending end, he could only wish for the relief of death if he had to suffer this thorough aching any longer.

His eyelids fluttered briefly and he welcomed the embrace of darkness again.

* * *

The pain had lessoned considerably. Harry reasoned that a significant amount of time had passed, enough to allow his body to recover from what had been affecting him. He became vaguely aware that he was lying prone on a flat surface, something soft and moderately yielding propping up one shoulder. He still had a small headache, but the affects of it were nothing like what he'd been suffering through before. Thankfully, his scar had stopped sending out its faint traces of Dark Magic through his body. The relief he got from it not actively hurting was his first moment of body harmony in what felt like years.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes.

He was in a narrow, rectangular room with slate gray walls and a gray ceiling. Angling his head, he noticed the floor was the same dull color. The room was devoid of furniture. Sucking in a deep breath, Harry pulled himself into a sitting position. He winced as a lingering soreness blossomed in the back of his head, neck and shoulders. The strap of his book bag slipped from his shoulder and Harry shrugged it off completely, stretching and turning his head back and forth in succession. He blinked rapidly as a small bolt of pain struck just behind his forehead.

_What happened to everyone?_ he thought.

In bits and pieces, it came back to him. The afternoon had begun to take a strange turn. Harry had been having an argument with Hermione, made more tense by the uncertainty of both their positions. After receiving a vision from Voldemort, he'd been determined to save Sirius from being tortured, and she, as usual, was determined to get in his way.

_"You have a bit of a saving people thing," she said._

_Harry stared at Hermione, his eyes narrowed at the implied insult._

_"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice low._

_She seemed to quell a bit under his unfriendly stare. "I—I just meant that, you know… Well, like last year, you wanted to save everyone during the second task in the Tournament, even though you didn't have to…and—and—" She stopped stammering, flushing as Harry's frown deepened. "You just get carried away, and you don't always have to rescue everyone," she finished. She twirled a finger anxiously in her dark fluffy curls and shifted from foot to foot as she waited for Harry to respond._

_He could not deny that he was upset with his so-called best friend. After the year he'd had—suffering through Umbridge's maniacal power trips, losing Dumbledore to Fudge's increasing insecurity about his job and status, and being forced to endure torture in the guise of help from Snape—the last thing Harry needed was a friend he couldn't depend on. He wasn't even sure he'd have Ron's support if Hermione kept carrying on this way. What he needed was to leave Hogwarts and save Sirius, and if it meant going without his friends, he'd do it._

_She'd continued arguing with him for several minutes afterwards, even pulling Ron into the argument when it looked as if Harry were going to ignore her pleas. Harry felt the lowest blow came when she claimed he was "playing the hero again," forgetting that he'd saved her own life._

_He pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. "You can't want me to be your hero when it's convenient for you and refuse to help me when it's not. That's not fair."_

_She frowned then, looking briefly at Ron for help before returning her gaze to Harry, her eyes suspiciously shiny in the low light. "I…" She swallowed hard and looked down. "What if it's just a dream? What if Voldemort sent you that vision of Sirius just to get you away from the school? He used Ginny to get to you, I wouldn't put it past—"_

_"It doesn't matter," Harry shouted. "Do you expect me to do nothing because it _might_ be a dream and Sirius _might not_ be suffering?" He backed away a step, shaking his head as Hermione prepared to answer. "I can't just do nothing. You don't understand. I've been through this before. When Voldemort killed that caretaker last year, when he sent Nagini to attack Ron's dad—these aren't just dreams! I can't sit here and let him hurt Sirius, torture him into insanity, when what he really wants…is me." He hadn't expected to say that last part and took a deep breath as Hermione's eyes met his again, tears spilling down her face. "You can stay here if you want, but I'm going to rescue Sirius, even if I have to do it alone."_

But, he hadn't gone alone. That, in short, had been the problem. His friends had followed him with a loyalty he hadn't expected or felt he fully deserved. In spite of their own fears, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna had all stood up with him against Umbridge and he'd repaid them by leading them into a trap set by Voldemort himself. Harry would never forgive himself if any of his friends died because of his own recklessness, but he knew if he had it to do over again, he would still choose to save Sirius above anything else.

Though, what he probably needed at the moment was someone who could save _him_.

From what, exactly? At the very least, an uncertain future. He shuddered when he thought of how Lucius Malfoy had teased him about Voldemort using visions of the Hall of Prophecy to lure him out of the school. Somehow, that hadn't bothered him as much as his accusations about Dumbledore and what it implied about the Headmaster.

_"Did Dumbledore not tell you the reason you bear that scar?" Malfoy asked in a low voice, his growing confidence clear in the way he moved forward, a smile beginning to crease the corners of his mouth. "Oh yes," he said as he drew closer. "Your mentor has known for some time about your connection. After the visions you've been sent, the Dark Lord wondered why you had not become more curious before now, but perhaps Dumbledore sought to keep the truth from you—to keep you under his control as long as he could."_

_"That's not true," Harry blurted, feeling heat flush his face. "He wouldn't—"_

_"He wouldn't hide something from you if he felt it was for your own good?" _

_Quick thoughts flashed across Harry's consciousness of the previous summer, when he'd sat miserably awaiting news of Voldemort's actions after witnessing Cedric Diggory's death. He found out weeks later that Dumbledore had deliberately asked his friends to keep information from him, the full reason for which Harry had not yet been able to ask him. The Order of the Phoenix had been reformed and Harry had been the last to know. _

_He'd had a strange feeling the entire school year, as if Dumbledore had not told him some elemental fact that would allow the events of the last few years to make sense. If Lucius Malfoy was to be believed, Harry should've been the first person Dumbledore confided the truth in, instead of being continually left in the dark._

_Malfoy smiled knowingly as several Death Eaters appeared behind him, wands held at the ready. "I would wager he felt you would become restless if you knew the truth about your destiny."_

_"What truth?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. "What's in the prophecy?"_

_Malfoy smiled, and this time there was something of a quiet triumph in his leer. "Give me the prophecy and all will be revealed to you. It is simply a matter of telling you your predetermined destiny, something Dumbledore obviously felt you couldn't handle."_

_"But why would Voldemort want to steal a prophecy about me? It doesn't make se—" Harry cut off abruptly as he recalled the words Voldemort spoke shortly after regaining a human body the night Cedric had been killed. _They have called this boy my downfall…he has been better protected than I think even he knows._ A small snatch of words spoken from the small globe as he'd picked it up glanced through Harry's thoughts. _The Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not._.. Did Voldemort seek the prophecy to find out Harry's strength—and his own weakness?_

_"Are you finally starting to see?" Malfoy asked._

Yes, he had seen. And that had been enough to distract him and almost allow Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and the other Death Eaters to get their hands on the prophecy. The fight that ensued led to Harry and his friends being forced into a flight through several rooms in the Department of Mysteries, culminating in a room filled with time pieces—a room where Harry had quickly become convinced their time would run out.

_Hermione yelled a spell that sealed the door and then collapsed against it, her breath coming in heavy gasps as they all looked around to take inventory of each other. Both Ginny and Luna were suffering from cuts on their faces, in addition to the bruises they'd already suffered at the school. Ginny was leaning against a case of small standing clocks, one elbow clutched lightly in the opposite hand. Luna was bleeding severely from a cut just above her left eye and the right was nearly swollen shut. Ron appeared to be limping. Neville was wheezing, dark, angry bruises around his neck showing that he'd been hit nearly dead-on. Hermione and Harry were the only two that appeared relatively unharmed from what had ensued so far, but Harry knew they would not escape that way. At this point, he just hoped they would all make it out alive._

_Through the door, they heard Malfoy shouting orders to the other Death Eaters and Hermione raised her wand in alarm, sealing the other door to the room before it could be breached, looking to Harry with panic in her eyes. They were trapped._

_"How are we going to get out?" she asked, her voice low and shaky._

_The door on the far side of the room began to shake and Ron jumped away from it, holding his wand up and favoring his hurt leg._

_"We'll have to fight our way through," Harry said, keeping his voice beneath the ticking sounds that filled the room so it wouldn't carry. "Malfoy has them split up into pairs. If we all go through the same door, we can probably fight off whoever breaks through the spell first and make it to the elevator before everyone else catches up with us." _

_The door shook menacingly again and this time Neville swerved to face it, arm up as if he expected it to swing open at any moment._

_"Is everyone okay with the plan?" Everyone nodded and Harry looked over at Ron, who had begun leaning against a desk, shoving aside the clocks that covered it, eyeing his twisted ankle dubiously. "Will you be able to keep up with us, Ron?"_

_He nodded and dropped the leg of his pants. "I'd feel better if I was in the middle of the pack, though."_

_Harry nodded and they all jumped together, moving into the middle of the room instinctively as the door lurched on it's hinges again, a few short blows away from being destroyed by the Death Eater on the other side. Quickly, Harry slipped the small globe into the bag on his shoulder, lifting his wand to shoulder level as the door furthest away from them flew open with one final shouted spell._

_The door they'd come through shot open seconds later and everyone ducked for cover as spells were shot back and forth across the room; the Death Eaters had surrounded them all again. Tables were overturned and the sound of ticking mixed with the sounds of glass breaking and screams all around as the battle recommenced._

_Harry dove behind a desk as a sliver of red light parted his hair, accompanied by Bellatrix Lestrange's throaty scream. He looked up again to find that she'd been stunned by one of his friends, or possibly another Death Eater, as their quickly cast spells crisscrossed the open room. Ron shouted in pain as a spell hit his already injured foot. Harry lunged to where he lay and pulled him behind a desk as another Death Eater aimed for him, just barely missing, striking where Ron had been helpless on the floor seconds before. _

_Instinctively, Harry turned to block a curse that had been aimed at Neville's back, causing the spell to rebound and hit the Death Eater who'd sent it. He crashed into a wall, bringing down several shelves of clocks as he slumped to the floor. Harry ducked to avoid another spell aimed at his head and ran across the room, careful to keep his body low, ducking behind desks as he moved. Ginny was slumped against the far wall unprotected and he struggled to get to her, too far away to put a shield around her with Death Eaters attacking from every side. _

_Seeing where Harry was headed, Malfoy raised his wand to Ginny, a curse forming on his thin lips._

_"No!" Harry shouted and he jumped over Ginny to shield her with his body, pushing her to the side as he reached her. He quickly covered her with a shield spell before he raised his wand to face Malfoy. Another curse was quickly sent, but barely missed Harry as he turned and leaned back. It crashed into the glass case behind him, sending a shower of glass down upon his head. He closed his eyes and began to slip to the floor, the contents of the case falling down around him and onto his lap. Before he could raise his hand to defend himself, two more spells followed in quick succession, one hitting Harry squarely in the chest, spreading a deep paralyzing pain, the other hitting the Time-Turner that had fallen over his stomach, sending the hourglass spinning rapidly backward._

_The sounds of breaking glass, of incoherent screams and his own name falling from his friend's lips in worried shouts all disappeared abruptly as Harry closed his eyes and fell into darkness._

Harry looked down and frowned in realization of what had happened. There was a Time-Turner in his lap, similar to the one Hermione had used to double her class schedule their third year. This one was larger, about the size of his fist, and the hourglass was filled with fine gold sand that glowed faintly. He stared at the object numbly as slow reaction set in. If he'd followed Hermione's explanation, the small Time-Turner she'd been allowed to use would transport users by the hour. From the size of this one, he guessed it would be measured in weeks or maybe even months. All that remained was to leave the Department of Mysteries, check the date, and return to his friends. Maybe he hadn't traveled that far.

He shook his head to clear it and stood abruptly, easily saving the Time-Turner from a fall as a wave of dizziness swept over him. _I should put this away before it gets bro—_ He stopped abruptly, remembering why he'd been tricked by Voldemort into going into the Ministry in the first place. Clutching his bag shakily in one hand, Harry fished out the small globe Voldemort had manipulated him to get his hand on. The glass surface was no longer filled with the silvery smoke that had touched its surface when he'd first retrieved it. It had fallen dark and did not change as Harry shook it minutely. He replaced it in the bag next to the Marauder's Map, then added the Time-Turner, cushioning the latter on his Invisibility Cloak. Retrieving his wand from the floor, Harry made his way to the door and to the world outside.

The breath seemed to catch fire in his throat and remain suspended there, choking his airways as his heart skipped a few long beats. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how many of the events in his life were coincidence and how many were by design. He was more curious now in light of the prophecy he'd heard a portion of earlier. Struggling, Harry took a shuddering breath and blinked away the tears that had instantly pricked up behind his eyelids as he looked at that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.

The headline read **He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Terrorizes Families In Three Communities**. Seconds later it changed to **Minister Promises Peace Soon**. Below, a picture of a much-harried witch the caption identified as Millicent Bagnold brushing past reporters to enter the Atrium Harry was now standing in, speaking over her shoulder the words that had become the day's headline. In the top right corner, Harry reread the section of the page that had startled him: **October 30th, 1981**.

Vivid memories, if they could be considered genuine memories, flashed through the forefront of his mind. James Potter, confronting Voldemort in their front room, giving his mother time to run. Lily, running upstairs to find her infant son, shielding the crib with her body after Voldemort demanded she give up her son's life. Screams and a brilliant green light filled the room, and then there was darkness—in Lily's eyes, the destruction of Voldemort's body, and the cloud that would hang over Harry's life from that day on. The entire night was just one day from happening. Harry drew his eyes away from the newspaper case and closed them, finally releasing a few of the tears he'd been holding back. He knew what he had to do before the thought had fully formed in his mind. He had to go to Godric's Hollow. He had to save his parents.

* * *

Harry flew southwest, not sorry for taking and enchanting the broom he'd spotted on the back stoop of a Muggle house, not worried about being seen under cover of the heavily clouded night, and refusing to consider the negative consequences of what he was proposing to do. The consequences were on his mind, surely; Hermione's voice was firmly intoning a lecture on the dangers of changing the past, the irrevocable damage that could result.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that saving his parents could only result in a change for the better in the future he'd return to. They would be safe to raise him, Peter Pettigrew would never get the chance to betray them, Sirius would not go to jail for murder, other future victims could possibly be saved. The Longbottoms? Others? With their strength and knowledge, by the time Harry returned to his fifteenth year, Voldemort could already be defeated—or his parents could fight by his side.

Was this what the prophecy foretold? Was it the ability to save his parents and countless others who would fight against Voldemort the one action that would lead to his defeat? If this was the possible consequence of changing the past, Harry knew it was right. For the lives spared alone, it would be worth it.

He landed near a small copse of trees, on the outskirts of the village. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize his parent's house from the few fleeting visions he'd had of Voldemort approaching to attack. Harry wasn't sure he would be able to find the house at all, because his parents were still protected by the Fidelius Charm. Peter Pettigrew had yet to betray their confidence.

He began walking towards the first row of houses, a jittery feeling suddenly assailing his stomach. None of the houses he passed resembled the two floor cottage his parents shared. Resisting the urge to peek into the windows of each to make sure, Harry pressed on, knowing he'd feel something if he got close to them. The spell protecting them would probably make sure of that. A short time later, Harry knew he'd reached the right one and the anxiousness left his stomach to spread through his whole body.

Acting purely on instinct, Harry retrieved his Invisibility Cloak from his bag and pulled the edges around himself. He realized then, his father would have a duplicate of it in the house at that moment. He opened the gate slowly and made his way up the walk, careful not to step on too many leaves. He wasn't sure if his presence would set off some type of alarm, but he was going to find out soon enough—he'd come too far to stop now.

Voices from inside drew him to a window to the right of the front door. Just as Harry leaned against the window sill, his mother's laughter rang out to him. She stood in front of a sofa, holding out a baby and laughing as her husband tickled the child in her arms before pulling back and laughing harder as baby Harry kicked his feet and giggled at his father. They repeated the motions a few more times before Lily handed the baby off to James. Harry's father kissed his cheek repeatedly before snuggling him in a tight embrace and rubbing his back as he yawned. Jzmes then rose and brushed his wife's lips in a brief kiss before taking Harry upstairs, leaving Lily to turn down the lamps that had lit the downstairs room.

A burning desire to run into the house and hug his parents—embrace them in the flesh for the first time since he'd been too young to fully appreciate it—overwhelmed Harry for a few moments. He had to force himself to take a few steps back from the window before the impulse overtook his good sense. It was dangerous enough that he was about to warn the two people he cared for the most that their life would be coming to an end. It would be the worst possible thing to go inside and declare he was their offspring from the future—his father's looks and his mother's eyes as proof—and scare them as they relaxed in their presumably protected home.

Harry stood outside for hours staring up at the house, debating what he was going to do, watching until the last light was put out and the home his parents lived in—and would die in if he did nothing—stood silent, along with the rest of Godric's Hollow. Finally, he approached the front door on stiff legs and pulled out his wand, his mind made up.

"_Alohamora_," he whispered and the door eased open into the quiet house, gliding backward with a soft _whish_. Harry entered the foyer and closed the door softly, freezing in place as he stared at the staircase. He hoped neither of his parents would be alerted to someone entering their house in the middle of the night. A few moments later, he walked into the living room, the tip of his wand lit as he observed the space.

There were framed photos of the three of them on every surface—his father throwing him into the air and catching him as he giggled; Lily cradling Harry when he was a newborn, small wisps of black hair standing straight up on his head; Harry sitting up on a toy broom, he and his mother both laughing as he zoomed near his father's feet. Glancing around, he noticed his own toys, including the child-sized broom, scattered around the floor as if he'd just finished playing. If Sirius's description of Lily fit, she'd straighten the room the moment she was up in the morning, just before breakfast.

A small brush against his ankles and a low purring made Harry jump . Looking down, he spotted a bushy white cat which resembled a ghostly-white version of Hermione's pet. It wrapped itself around his legs, purring loudly in apparent recognition of a member of the family. Willing his heartbeat to slow down, Harry stepped gingerly out of the circle the cat was walking around him and headed for the kitchen, deciding to leave the note for his parents there, where they'd be sure to find it first thing in the morning.

Paper and quill in hand, Harry paused for a moment, weighing his options. How much could he tell them without causing more harm than good? After all, if Voldemort did not lose his body the next night, the fight would continue, harder than ever once Voldemort realized his intended victims were safe elsewhere. He would warn them about Neville's parents as well, he decided, dipping the quill. Everything else could resolve itself.

_James and Lily_, (It felt strange to be writing his parents names this way, but he could hardly call them Mum and Dad.)

_Peter Pettigrew has betrayed you. This note is evidence that the Fidelius Charm has been broken. Further proof will come tomorrow as Voldemort plans to attack you in your home after nightfall, killing you and your son if he can. Please leave and do not tell anyone except Sirius Black or Albus Dumbledore where you are going. Also, you must warn Frank and Alice Longbottom their lives are in danger from Death Eaters. They must go into hiding immediately. _(Pausing, Harry decided to add more to the note while he had the chance to say it.)_ Your contribution to this movement means more to the fight against Voldemort than you'll ever be aware. Be careful in the future as the road will get harder and there are many whose loyalties are divided. _

_Be safe._

Harry started to sign a name, but remembered as he dipped the quill that he had none that would make sense to his parents. He blew on the ink to dry it and looked around the kitchen for someplace to leave the note with a Sticking Charm. He finally decided that leaving it in the middle of the formerly empty kitchen island counter would be enough for his parents to notice it in the morning. He took one last look around the kitchen, before exiting the house and relocking the front door, pulling the Invisibility Cloak back over himself as he left.

Making up his mind quickly, Harry decided to sleep in the front yard, in spite of the slight breeze that blew through the village. He'd been running around since early that morning in another time period, had fought, traveled through time and flown hours to see his parents. A rest, close enough to see if his parents heeded his warning, was well-needed. Besides that, a quick inventory of his pockets and bag showed he barely had enough money to get a butterbeer, let alone a place to sleep for the night. After he retrieved the broom he'd stolen from where he'd landed earlier and hid it under a nearby bush, Harry leaned against the inside of the fence with his bag cradled in his lap. The Invisibility Cloak gave him protection from potential onlookers and the slight wind as he fell asleep facing his parents' house the night before they would be murdered.

A woman's scream woke Harry in the morning and he jumped, thinking he'd been wrong and Voldemort had attacked anyway, only in the cold light of this October morning instead of Halloween night. Had his own fifteen-year-old presence somehow broken the charm? Shivering as he considered the possibility, Harry heard his mother call for his father by name, and the next rush of words from her mouth that meant she'd found the note he'd left for them. Harry held his breath, hoping they would react by escaping their fate, rather than dismiss the note as an improbability because of the protections around their home. Minutes later, the front door banged open and Harry got his answer.

As Harry sat just inside the gate, he watched his parents struggle down the walkway and exit the gate with a bang. Lily was carrying her crying infant son in one arm with a couple of overstuffed bags sliding back and forth over the opposite shoulder, James was carrying a large suitcase in each hand. Several steps past the gate, James opened one arm to encompass his wife and child, then they both turned on the spot, Apparating from sight. Harry's scar tingled lightly.

Now he would return to the Ministry, and to a future he hoped was far brighter than the one he'd left. He would accept no other possibility.

* * *

One hundred ninety. Months from the date his parents were, or would have been murdered till the night Harry would have been fighting alongside his friends in the Department of Mysteries. It was the number of turns he'd have to engage the Time-Turner to return to that night, where he knew the evening would end quite differently after his future changed for the better.

Clutching his bag over one shoulder, Harry looked around the Ministry Atrium once more before grasping the Time-Turner firmly and beginning to return to his future. Before he reached the required number, the hourglass began spinning faster and faster, no longer allowing Harry to direct it. He closed his eyes and waited as he was transported.


	2. Welcome

With a feeling like a heavy weight being dropped and lifted from his chest, Harry opened his eyes to find himself standing in the Ministry of Magic Atrium. A slight dizziness remained after the Time-Turner stopped. When he'd traveled earlier, he'd assumed the side effects were because he'd been hit with a spell just before he'd gone. This time, there was no reason he should've felt anything more than a vague sense of movement. Going back and forth through time was supposed to be a painless process, as it had been his third year at Hogwarts.

He glanced down at the Time-Turner in his hand and frowned as he observed the fine crack going up the side of the hourglass. Cracked or no, as long as it had brought him back where he was supposed to be, Harry wasn't at all fussed about what had happened to it.

Harry walked across the Atrium to the newspaper stand in the corner. As he eyed the paper left from that morning's printing, an uncharacteristic curse burst out before he could suppress it. The headlines were innocuous enough—no mentions of Voldemort or Death Eaters on the front page at least, though that could be deceiving—but it was the date that had caught his attention.

Harry glanced down at the Time-Turner in his hand again, eyeing the crack and biting his bottom lip. Eight more turns should do it. He grasped the Time-Turner in his hand and pushed it forward eight times, cursing again when it spun listlessly in his hand before winding to a slow stop. Harry eyed the paper. September 1, 1995, the beginning of his fifth year of school. He was stuck here. He and the Harry who would be on the train to Hogwarts right now. He cursed again and replaced it in his bag.

He could hear Hermione in his head right now. _I tried to tell you Harry, but you had to be stubborn_, she'd say. And she'd be right, as always. Harry thought of an immediate solution for the problem. Professor Dumbledore. He turned and smiled at the long rows of open Floos at one end of the Ministry Atrium before glancing around the Atrium in search of a clock. Everyone would probably be at dinner now, or at least the Sorting. He could get into the school undetected. He'd go to Hogwarts, find Dumbledore, and find a way to get back to the right time. In the meantime, he'd have to…avoid himself. He could hear Ron laughing now.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the Floo and into the Gryffindor common room, brushing ash from his jeans and shaking his hair as he stepped out. It had been less than two days, but felt like a lifetime since he'd walked out of this room—ran, really—on his way to what he thought was a rescue mission for his godfather. In truth, he was dying to find out how much had changed in the school and the fight against Voldemort since he'd left and come back, but he knew that getting back to the right time was the best course of action—at least, the one that wouldn't have the Ministry mounting an immediate inquiry about his Time-Turner use. He'd deal with Fudge, or hopefully a much more reasonable Minister, later.

Harry pushed through the portrait hole and turned left, almost jogging in his excitement. He knew it would probably be a while before the Headmaster headed upstairs, but the prospect of being able to tell someone what he'd done, even at the risk of getting a lecture from his Headmaster about responsibility and consequences—on second thought, he wasn't really in the mood to hear Professor Dumbledore say whatever he'd be hearing from Hermione later. He just wanted to get back to the correct month and date, and see his parents, finally.

Rounding the corner again, Harry went up to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office and began running through the list of candies Professor Dumbledore favored, sure one of them would be the current password. He'd just gotten to Fizzing Whizbees when he concluded that waiting for the Headmaster's return was an exercise in patience he wasn't prepared to withstand. Stopping long enough to pull his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map from his bag, Harry made his way down the staircases to the ground floor, hoping he could look around the school a bit before dinner was finished.

Though it was crowded, he didn't see himself sitting at the Gryffindor table, where it seemed everyone else in the school was having dinner. Everyone except Professor Dumbledore. Peering down at the small label next to one of the dots, Harry thought he saw Professor McGonagall and reasoned that though she'd be angry, she would at least help him…before giving him detention. He thought he'd gotten out of the habit of getting detentions before the school year had started properly. Perhaps, even with a change in the past, some things would always remain the same.

With everyone in the Great Hall, Harry relieved himself of his Invisibility Cloak and began walking back up the stairs, stuffing the Cloak and the Marauder's Map into his bag. A visit to the Trophy Room on the third floor would be a better distraction than pacing around wondering what punishments he'd suffer when his professors found out what he'd been up to. Maybe he'd won something and the contents of the room had changed. It'd be a welcome change, to have spent time winning awards and celebrating achievements instead of merely attempting to live through his first few years at Hogwarts. He'd just set his first foot on the bottom stair when a shout from the hall had him turning back, too startled at the voice to cover himself with his Cloak and hide.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted again, smiling as she ran towards him, her thick hair flying behind her. "What happened to you?"

She didn't sound upset, merely using the same lecturing tone he'd gotten used to over the years. He smiled, imagining her next words would start with something like, _I was so worried…_

"I was worried when you didn't make it onto the train earlier." Hermione turned her head to look down the hall then and so missed Harry's small snort of laughter. "Our things have already been taken upstairs, but there's still time if you want to have dinner. You can tell me what you've been doing all day since you weren't getting to school the conventional way."

She crossed her arms then and gave him a look down her nose, that, even from several inches below, forced Harry to break out into a grin and then a full laugh as she glared at him.

At her persistent frown, he started to explain. "I was just—"

"Don't worry about it, Harry," she said to his surprise. He had expected her to remain irritated for at least another few minutes. "After what you told me, I'm just glad you made it at all." Then she stood on the steps next to Harry, pulled him into her arms and kissed him long and slow, welcoming him back to a school and a world he could have hardly imagined.

_Ron is going to kill me_, he thought. They'd never actually dated, but Harry felt it just the same. This version of the future was obviously very different from what he'd expected and Harry couldn't help the refrain that repeated through his thoughts as Hermione Jean Granger let him know exactly how much she'd missed him over the summer. _This is just too strange_. Then, he found his arms slipping to her waist, welcoming the way she leaned into him as she combed her fingers through his hair. Breathless, she pulled her lips from his and gave Harry the warm hug he'd been expecting, allowing him to let the shock register on his warm, flushed face.

"Hermione," he started as she pulled away. "What—"

"Let's go up to your room," she interrupted. Harry found himself unable to speak. "You know, I don't think they'll be done with dinner for a while. We could…um…" She let her voice trail off and blushed.

Harry jumped when he realized his hands were still on her waist. "You want to talk?" he asked dumbly.

"I—" She stopped and her flush deepened. "I thought you wanted the same thing I do. After all those letters…I guess if you _need_ to talk about it some more, I'm okay with that." Her voice had gotten quiet and her eyes drifted to the floor.

Harry could only imagine the kinds of things they'd been writing all summer if that was the greeting she had for him. He was afraid to ask. "No, don't get upset. I just meant I have something to tell you."

Her smile was instantaneous. "Tell me in your room. I want to hear everything. Especially if it has to do with where you were today."

How hard would it be to explain to his friend—er, _girlfriend_—exactly what he'd been up to lately? Harry was starting to prefer this laid-back, affectionate Hermione to the constantly worried, mother hen he usually spent time with. He had no inclination to share with her the events of the past two days if it would just earn him a lecture—if she would even have reason to believe him. He didn't even know where…um, _he_ was.

_Why didn't the Harry who is supposed to be at school board the Hogwarts Express? _he thought._ And why hasn't he—haven't I—shown up later? Or now? Or…never mind, I'll think about it later._

He looked up to find Hermione staring at him, a questioning look on her face. "Lead the way," he said. As he followed Hermione up the stairs dressed in her school robes, he found himself wondering if she filled out her jeans as well as he remembered, then wondering when he'd had time to notice in the first place.

* * *

Hermione sat back on his bed and fluffed out her hair behind her, watching as Harry cautiously approached. He was in the same bed as always, with Ron on one side (the Chudley Cannons posters were a dead giveaway) and, he assumed, Neville on the other. The two beds on the other side would belong to Dean and Seamus. At least his House and roommates hadn't changed. The trunk next to the bed was the standard every student had. The cage on the floor next to it stood empty. What would he find when he opened that trunk? Some snacks his mother had packed because she knew they were his favorites? Or worse, moldy old hand-me-down socks courtesy of the Dursleys? Hopefully, his late-night note writing had spared him a childhood of suffering at the hands of those people. He'd be happy to erase those memories in time.

The soft touch of Hermione's hand on his made Harry jump in place.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She continued in a soft voice. "You know, if you don't want to do anything, we don't—"

"No," he interrupted, cutting off the words he was at once intrigued and frightened to hear. "I've just gone through a lot today. I haven't eaten—" He paused, realizing at least that was true. He'd been running on pure adrenaline. The last meal he'd eaten had probably been lunch two days previous, and he'd picked at that, nervous as he was about his O.W.L.s in History of Magic. Suffering through the test with Umbridge supervising seemed, and was, a world away. He lowered his bag to the floor and caught Hermione's eye.

"I'm sorry if I'm not myself."

Hermione's hand eased from his fingertips to fully grasp his palm against hers. Her skin was like warm silk against his. Harry suddenly wanted her to go further; he didn't know where the thought had come from, but he pushed it away quickly.

"If that's all it is," she began, "I can ask Professor McGonagall if someone can bring a plate up here for you." Her eyes dropped and she slid her legs over the edge of the bed, staring at her feet as if she suddenly found them fascinating. "She'll understand if you're tired and don't really feel well."

"Do you understand?" Before he could give himself time to think about it, Harry had cupped her face in both hands and turned it up to his. "I have to tell you something very important, but I just realized I can't right now."

She nodded, her wide brown eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "I understand, Harry. You've had a lot going on lately." Hermione's eyes left his and she looked away, wiping at her eyes quickly as she rushed on. "I understand if you regret any of the things you said. If you want to break up." Her voice cracked on the last words and Harry enveloped her in a tight hug, wondering just how close they'd gotten if she was reacting that way.

"No, Hermione, I didn't mean I want to—to end things, just that I'm not ready for…anything tonight."

"And you don't think less of me because I said I want to—"

"No," he said. "We care about each other, right? We want the same things."

Hermione nodded, then stood on tiptoe abruptly, brushing her tear-moistened lips over his frantically. He caught her arm as she tried to move away and held her until she relaxed in his arms, shuddering a bit as he responded to her advances, kissing her back as he wiped at her tears with his thumbs. Long moments later, she pulled away, smiling shyly.

"I better get downstairs before they clear the tables. I hope you feel better Harry." With that, she walked out of his room and down the stairs, leaving Harry to wonder if, and hope, those letters she spoke of were in his trunk. He had a feeling he had an interesting night of reading ahead of himself.


	3. Family Reunion

Lily read the emergency alert twice, her eyes brimming over with tears as the meaning of the note sunk in. She had to leave, she had to fly—no, she had to use Bathilda's Floo. Was it even connected? She couldn't remember if they'd had to get it disconnected from the Network.

Raven? She could ask Celia Abbott to stay with her for a couple of hours. It was an emergency, she would understand.

Severus? She'd go to him first. She didn't care if it was the first morning of classes, she'd have to talk to him as soon as possible. On the off chance this was true… Her mind made up, Lily ran to the next house and banged on the door until she woke her neighbor.

* * *

"Must be nice, mate."

Harry blinked and rubbed at his eyes in the bright sunlight. He reached for his glasses from the bedside table and sat up, realizing he'd slept in his clothes from the past several days. Ron stood near the foot of his bed, chuckling and straightening the maroon and gold tie that completed his school uniform.

"Hmm? What?"

"I said, it must be nice," Ron repeated. Another boy snickered. Harry turned to see Seamus headed out. Ron motioned to the plate on Harry's nightstand and the general state of his part of the room. "Bedside meals and love notes from your girlfriend." He drawled the last word out in a light sing-song voice. "We should all be so lucky."

That answered any question Harry might have had about his friend having feelings for Hermione in this life. He sat up abruptly and looked down at the bed. He'd fallen asleep most of the way through reading the substantial number of letters Hermione had written him over the summer. Some mentioned how glad Hermione was that Lily liked her—Harry hadn't been able to stop himself grinning every time he'd read "your mum" referenced in the present tense. His girlfriend of two years was being treated practically as a daughter. Some were about how difficult this year would be with the changes in their classes. Harry was tempted to warn Hermione about the reality of that, he was already dreading Double Potions with Snape. He really had to get back to the right date.

Most of the letters contained intense discussions about their relationship, with references to "taking things on" and "experiencing new things together." Harry blushed as he realized his best friend would probably have a very good idea what was contained in those letters. Especially with Harry sleeping with perfume scented notes all over the bed. He was surprised the laughter from his roommates hadn't woken him sooner.

"I've got my share of problems too," he said, thinking of his missing present-day self and, unwittingly, of Voldemort and the portion of the prophecy he'd heard.

Ron chuckled again, shouldering his backpack as he prepared to head to breakfast. "Sure. Mum's a saint and Dad's a hero—I don't know how it could get any worse for you." He rolled his light blue eyes good-naturedly and left Harry alone with his thoughts.

_A saint? A hero?_ A brilliant thought occurred to Harry. He grinned as he swung himself out of bed, in spite of the weight of two days fatigue pressing down on him. Had his parents lived—because of what he'd done—to defeat Voldemort? The near-miracle rationality of the thought followed him as he bathed and changed, slipping into school robes casually as he expected to return to school today—at the end of the school year.

After Cedric's death and the ritual and fight in the graveyard, Dumbledore had told him it was impossible to bring back the dead. _Priori Incantatem_ might not be able to do it, but there was no magical law that stated _preventing_ a death could not happen. As closely guarded as Time-Turners were, Harry doubted anyone save himself had done it. Even if the Ministry, the Wizengamot in particular, came down on him with every punishment they had, he was sure this future was worth it. Especially if Harry's saving his parents had resulted in saving the lives—Wizard and Muggle—of every person Voldemort and his followers would have killed.

* * *

Feeling refreshed in spite of the few hours of sleep he'd gotten, Harry rounded the corner to the Headmaster's office. He preferred to fix his time issue—he snorted softly at the inanity of the term as it came to him—rather than go to breakfast. When he finally saw his parents, he wanted everything to be right.

A flash of long red hair and deep magenta robes appeared at the end of the hall. Harry marked it absently as he walked, barely focusing even as the person turned. A detached interest flitted through his mind briefly before he stopped walking, staring before him in stupefied wonder. For the second time in as many days, the breath arrested in his lungs. He stopped walking, staring dumbly as the person too noticed him and ran down the hall in a frenzy, hair streaming behind her. "Mum?" he managed to croak out just before she reached him. She pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, as surprised as he that his eyes had teared up a bit.

"Harry," Lily said, her warm breath ruffling his hair. "I was so worried when I received that Owl this morning." She punctuated this with another squeeze. "I came as soon as I could to check on you." She leaned back and studied his face; it was blank with the shock and unbelieving joy of seeing the woman who'd given him life in the flesh.

"Are you all right?" She ruffled his already messy hair and her brilliant green eyes came to rest upon his forehead. "Were you in a fight?" she asked quickly. "You have a scar. You should have Madam Pomfrey take a look at it. Or someone at St. Mungo's." A small light seemed to dawn in her eyes and she gazed down at her son, who had just barely composed himself.

Harry realized with a pang that it was his mother's eyes that had been staring back at him in the mirror every morning of his life. It had never struck him before how difficult, how intense it must've been for anyone who'd known and loved her to see how much their eyes were alike. He smiled as she slipped an arm loosely around his shoulder.

"I know we had a bit of a row yesterday, but I had hoped you wouldn't be upset with me still. I hope you didn't do anything reckless that got you sent to the hospital this morning."

Confusion marred Harry's features, pushing back the dozens of questions that popped into his head on first sight of his mother. "But, I wasn't in the hospital. I've been…" He stopped, wondering if that was where his missing counterpart had been while he'd been asleep in the Gryffindor dormitory.

"It's no matter now, I'm just glad you're here at school. Safe," Lily added, pulling him into another hug, much lighter than her previous hugs as she had relaxed considerably.

"How—how far did you have to come?" _And can I come spend the day with you instead of traveling through time again?_ _That can wait, _he thought. "I hate to think you were in the middle of something important." _But nothing is more important than being with you now_, he wanted to say out loud. He couldn't, knowing he'd possibly alarm her again.

A light touch ruffled his hair again. "Bathilda hadn't even awoken when I left and Raven just said she'd finish breakfast while I make sure her big brother is okay." She tilted his head up to hers then, and gazed deeply into the eyes that were so much like her own. Harry noticed with a small smile that she looked barely older than the photographs he'd seen of her, a few small crinkles around her eyes the only signs that she could possibly be old enough to have a teenage son. And a daughter.

"You _are_ okay, Harry? I know you're unhappy about some of the changes, but…" She stopped, rethinking her words. "I think we'll talk things over again this weekend," Lily said with some finality. "Are you ready for classes? Fifth year will be an important year for you. You'll have to work hard to prepare for your O.W.L.s."

Harry smiled, suddenly realizing why his mother and Hermione got on so well. They were very much alike. Fussing over his health in one breath and scrutinizing his studies in the next. It was a wonder he and Hermione hadn't gotten together sooner. Eyes widening at the sudden intrusive thought, Harry blinked rapidly and nodded. "I'm sure classes will be fine. I'm more than ready," he said. _Particularly since I've already done all the work_, he thought.

"Where's Dad?" Of all the questions he could have asked, this one seemed most important at the moment—seeing the man that had made Remus Lupin and Sirius Black want to protect both Harry and his parents with their lives.

Lily grinned and blinked rapidly as she answered her son. "Harry, he'll be so glad to hear you've finally decided to call him that."

Before he could ask what she meant, movement from down the hall caught Lily's attention and she wiped at her eyes quickly with the sleeve of her robe, dashing away all signs of her runaway emotions as the newcomer approached.

"Sev, we were just talking about you." Harry looked over his shoulder as Severus Snape approached him and his mother in the hall, a small smile playing over his thin lips. Harry's eyes widened as Lily opened her arms to him and enveloped him in a small hug before leaning up and placing her lips over his in a tender kiss. Harry turned his head quickly, choking back the bile that had suddenly risen in the back of his throat. _Hell couldn't be much worse than this,_ hr thought.

Snape turned to survey the teenager with narrowed eyes. "I didn't expect to see you here," he said in his lilting, condescending tone. "What, pray, were my wife and son discussing?" He put special inflection on the reference to Harry, the corners of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly as the word had the expected impact.

Harry's eyes widened at the reference. He was instantly dizzy as the blood drained from his head in a resounding rush, thundering past his ears as he let the information sink in. His mother was married to that… Harry couldn't think of a word horrible enough to describe the man in front of him, smirking as he put his arm casually around Lily's shoulder.

_My sister, is she their child together?_ Thoughts of how that had to have happened entered Harry's conscious mind and he wanted to scream from the horror of it. He lowered his eyes from the two people standing in front of him, blinking away the sudden moisture blurring his vision, whether from profound sadness or sudden, blinding hatred he could not tell. Where was James Potter in all this?

"Well, Harry? Aren't you going to tell him?" Lily implored.

Her voice sounded positive enough, but when Harry looked into her eyes again, he could see the naked fear his mother was trying to mask. Was she afraid of her husband or son? She'd said they'd had a fight, but he'd assumed it was just an argument. To hear Hermione tell it, he'd spent the better part of his fifth year at Hogwarts angry at the world, so he could understand if the typical troubles of a teenager had caused him to have a disagreement with his mother. What he could not comprehend—flat-out refused to accept—is that his mother could have a genuine fear of him. He could never hurt her in any way.

The only logical reason for her seeming fearful was standing next to her, the malicious villain who seemed to delight in torturing Harry even more than he enjoyed undermining and belittling his friends. It was no wonder Harry couldn't bring himself to call the man Dad, as Lily had mentioned. If their life at school was any indication, Lily was lucky her son hadn't killed his…stepfather. Even thinking the word made the nausea rise up again, threatening to force Harry to betray his true thoughts in front of his already worried mother. His scar tingled faintly. He swallowed hard and tried to make his voice sound normal.

"I—it was nothing, really. I just wondered if it would be possible for me to talk to Dumbledore. Before classes," Harry added at his mother's surprised look.

Snape's simpering smile grew wider. "Suffice it to say, while you think you are quite important, I'm sure even the Minister of Magic would require you to make an appointment rather than barge into his office on the first morning of the work week."

"Why would you need to talk to him, Harry?"

Harry ignored his mother, his thoughts racing. Dumbledore is Minister of Magic? That explained why he hadn't been on the map during the feast the night before. _Brilliant_, he thought. Harry could be out of the school and back at the right time in a matter of minutes once he'd gotten in to speak with him. And, contrary to what Snape thought, Harry would be able to do just that.

"I just…I had some things I wanted to discuss," he said. "It can keep."

Snape seemed on the verge of commenting, but stopped as Lily turned to him. "I think I'll go back to Godric's Hollow. Celia can't stay with them for long and I think Bathilda has an appointment later."

"Why would you leave in the first place? I thought you told me her care was of the utmost importance to you?" Snape's voice left no question as to the unpleasantness of the subject they discussed, made even more awkward as Harry stood there rapt, refusing to move from his mother's side until she left the school grounds.

"I—" Lily's gaze diverted to Harry for a moment. "I had received an urgent Owl this morning saying that someone had been found and taken to the hospital. The nurse who sent the notice seemed absolutely sure it was Harry."

"You came by to see if I had let him come to harm?" Snape asked, his voice low.

"N-no," Lily sputtered. "I came to see if you would accompany me to the hospital in case it was true." She glanced at her son again and smiled faintly, though, again, it did not reach her eyes. "He's fine, so I'm going back. Will you let me into the Headmistress's office again? If you feel that Minerva wouldn't mind, that is. I came in that way earlier because it was an emergency, but…"

"I'm sure she wouldn't dream of you using one of the student Floos. The password is _fiducia_," Snape said. "Shall I expect you for lunch Saturday?"

Lily moved her lips upwards in a tremulous ghost of a smile. "If I can, I'll come a bit earlier. I had hoped to spend part of the afternoon with Harry and Hermione," she said. "If that's all right with you?" she asked. She smiled at Harry's acquiescing nod. Moving a couple of steps, she enfolded Harry in another hug, ruffling his hair as she pulled back. "Have a great week, Hon. I'll try to bring Raven with me, if I can. She misses you already."

Harry, not trusting himself to speak, merely squeezed his mother again and mirrored her false smile, disappointed that he hadn't done or said more as she returned the way she had come in, slipping into the Headmaster's office as easily as he had done in his years at the school. Before he could think of what he would do next, a hand grabbed him roughly by the front of his robes and slammed him into the closest wall.

"What—?" The tip of Snape's wand under his chin stopped Harry in mid-question.

"How did you manage it?" He paused. "I don't suppose I should feign surprise. Vermin are notoriously difficult to deal with," Snape began, his foul breath filling Harry's face in a hot rush. Snape's eyes connected with his and Harry felt a sharp pain behind his eyes. Harry quickly imagined pushing Snape backwards, forcing his presence from his mind until a virtual door slammed in his face. Snape recoiled briefly at the action before renewing his hold on Harry's clothes, grinding Harry's shoulder blades against the stone wall behind him.

"I see you've learned a new trick. I suggest you tread carefully, Potter. Going to the Ministry would not be in the best interest of your health. You would do well to stay out of my way." At that, he released his grip on Harry and stood back from the wall, seeming to realize he could be spotted at any moment if a student or teacher came into the vicinity.

"You had better keep up appearances." He motioned to Harry's robes. "Get yourself straightened out, don your Prefect's badge, attend your classes and stay in line." His eyes narrowed again and his voice lowered as if he were afraid of being overheard in the empty hall. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. Don't give me cause to… take a close interest in your activities."

Snape turned and walked briskly down the hall, his black robes flapping and billowing behind him, leaving Harry to stand gaping, curious, confused, scared—fearing that the reason he—the Harry who was supposed to be at present-day Hogwarts—had never made it to school was because there had been a murder attempt. By the man currently married to his mother. Blood chilled, he closed his eyes and resigned himself to his task. He had to find out the truth, before it was too late and he—both versions of his life—ceased to exist.


	4. Complicated Associations

Harry had no choice but to stay at Hogwarts. He was still shaking a bit as he went down the stairs to breakfast. His relationship with Snape had never been ideal, but to Harry's knowledge, the only person who had ever gotten close to that kind of hatred for him had been Voldemort. How many enemies did he have in this life? He had been lucky in his clumsy attempt at Occlumency, especially on such short notice. Harry didn't know how long he'd be able to hold Snape off if the man continued trying to see into his thoughts. How would Snape react if he saw memories that belonged to a very different person than the one he knew?

As he rounded the corner that led to the Great Hall, he stopped short, nearly running into the slightly shorter blonde boy standing in front of him. Frowning, Harry resisted the urge to push Draco out of his way. "Excuse me," he mumbled, hoping to step around the Slytherin student without incident.

"Hey, where were you?" Draco called. He caught Harry's arm as he tried to step past and fell into step with him as he entered the Hall. "Hermione and I were looking for you on the train yesterday. She thought something might have happened."

Harry stood stock still for a moment, trying not to betray his surprise that Draco Malfoy actually seemed concerned about his welfare. He stared into the gray eyes opposite his for a few seconds, looking for signs that the other student was joking. Draco's arm was still on his, but his grip wasn't painful. In fact, it would've been comforting if it hadn't been coming from Malfoy.

"I had an incident on the way to school. I got in during the feast last night."

"She told me." Draco looked up at the Gryffindor table as they approached, waving companionably to Hermione as she waved in greeting to both of them. Before Harry could move to sit down, Draco increased the pressure on his arm and pulled him closer. "So, you're okay? I wasn't sure what would happen after what you said about…the parchment," Draco whispered, his eyes darting around as if he feared being overheard. "Were you caught?"

_Draco_ was in his confidence? Harry felt the fleeting urge to scream. He could hardly think of anyone he'd like to be friends with less, but apparently this was a choice his Doppelgänger had made without knowing any better. "I…" He stumbled over what to say, knowing any mistake would make his friend—he nearly gagged over that thought—suspicious that something was wrong with him. "I got away with it," he said vaguely. "But I still have to be careful. Can we talk later?"

"Sure," Draco said affably. "I have to get to my table anyway. Hermione won't tolerate waiting for you any longer." Draco winked and then walked away, leaving Harry to wonder if this life's version of him was entirely insane. Of all people to align himself with…

He had to get Hermione alone, and soon. If there was anyone he could confide in who could explain the craziness in this life, it would be his best friend. Romantic association aside, he had no doubt Hermione was just as intuitive about his life and relationships as she'd always been. Harry never thought he'd appreciate her analytical brain as much as he did now, when it would give him the insight he needed to extricate himself from this mess.

"Did you sleep well?" Hermione asked as he sat at the table. She immediately passed him a tray of toast and began pouring him a glass of pumpkin juice.

"I didn't get much sleep at all," he admitted. Harry noticed Ron glancing up from across the table, smirking around his mouthful of food. When he saw Harry watching, he turned back to listen to Neville, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were deeply engrossed in a debate about how the strength of a Shield Charm could be increased.

"I spent a lot of time reading—" he cleared his throat, "rereading a lot of the letters you wrote me over the summer," Harry continued in a softer voice. "I have some questions for you."

Hermione blushed lightly and passed Harry the tray of sausages next. "Needed your memory refreshed?"

Harry smiled at her embarrassment and wondered briefly if she'd ever acted this way around Ron. He didn't think so, as they spent so much time arguing. Were she and Ron even friends now? He hadn't seen them speaking to each other before he'd reached the table, but that meant nothing. Ron was usually too busy eating at mealtimes to speak to anyone. It'd be even worse today, the first day they'd have double classes to prepare for their O.W.L.s. His nerves alone would have him cleaning every tray within reach. The only reason Harry wasn't doing the same was because he'd gone through it all before. Of course, receiving what he perceived as a death threat from Snape first thing in the morning was doing little in the way of settling his nerves.

"A little," he finally responded. He began to eat his breakfast. "I was wondering if we could talk after our first class, during the break."

Hermione stared at him as she chewed her toast, lost in thought. Harry was sure she was about to lecture him about how the time would be better served getting started on their first assignments and studying when she said, "There's more to this than what I wrote, isn't there? You were acting very strange last night and it had nothing to do with being hungry or tired."

Harry shrugged without meeting her eyes and speared a sausage on his fork. "I did some traveling before I got to school. I had a lot going on," he said, repeating her words from the night before. He knew his evasiveness would only make her more curious, but he didn't see it going well if he explained to her what had happened in the middle of the Great Hall.

"So I gathered." They ate in silence for a few seconds before Hermione said, "Fine. I'll meet you in the Room of Requirement right after the first class. I hope you'll be prepared to be honest with me by then."

At the quiet declaration, Harry looked up. Before a denial could pass his lips, he spotted Snape walking the length of the table. He stopped before Harry and Hermione, waiting until Hermione paused from her breakfast to look up. The contempt in his eyes had faded a bit since Harry had last seen him, but his impassive expression could hardly be described as friendly. Fortunately, the outright hatred Harry had been subjected to earlier had been reigned in. For Hermione's sake, he supposed.

Snape thrust two sheets of parchment forward with a quick flick of his wrists. "As you were unavailable last night Harry," the name struggled to come out in a normal voice, "we were unable to meet as a group. I'd like you and the other Prefects to join me after your first class, in my office. We will go over what is expected of you as Prefects and the passwords you will need to access the Prefects' bathroom and all common rooms. I trust you'll make room in your schedules."

Hermione nodded and took the sheet waiting in front of her. Harry wondered how far his enemy could hear as Snape's eyes narrowed on him. He took the proffered parchment, frowning slightly as he glanced down at his schedule. He had Double Potions just before lunch. It promised to be unpleasant at best.

"Don't forget your badge, Harry," Snape said before walking briskly from the table, heading to speak with the Prefects in Hufflepuff.

After a few seconds of tense silence, Hermione cleared her throat, drawing Harry's eyes back to her. "Our Deputy Headmaster seems in a worse mood than usual. Did something happen?"

"My mother came by the school this morning to check on me," Harry responded. "They…I wouldn't call it an argument exactly. They exchanged words."

Hermione put her fork down and turned to face Harry fully. "You don't have to hide things from me. I know how bad it's been lately." Her hand went up to cup his cheek and Harry forced himself not to flinch as Ron snorted from the other side of the table. "What you haven't told me, I've been able to guess. If your mum is unhappy, she has every right to be. There's nothing you can do about that. But, if she doesn't want to leave him, Harry," her light brown eyes implored his, "you can't make her. This is all her choice. Maybe her time with Bathilda Bagshot will let her see what it's like to live without her husband."

"What?"

"I mean," Hermione continued, "You said your mother's hardly been on her own since your father died, and they got married right after school." Harry swallowed hard, trying not to choke as Hermione delivered the news about James Potter as casually as someone would speak about the weather being a bit cloudy. "She'll be able to see what it's like to live as a single mother, if that's what she wants. Though, I don't know how realistic it will be since she's nursing Madam Bagshot indefinitely. I'm sure she'll take everything you said into consideration. Plus, there's Raven to think about."

"My sister."

"She wouldn't want to take her away from her father, would she? I know your mother has no idea that you and Raven both feel the same about—Harry, are you all right?"

He shook his head slowly, trying his best to digest the information she was feeding him, one supposedly reassuring sentence at a time. "I don't feel well. I don't think I'll go to class after all." Maybe he could use the Floo and get to the Ministry immediately. Waiting for Dumbledore to be available would not be an issue.

"You can't do that, Harry. You promised your mother you'd be more respectful of the rules if you were made Prefect. She never would've asked your—Professor Snape," she said, watching the way Harry's nose flared, "to make you a Prefect if she thought you'd abuse the privilege."

"The two of you really are close, aren't you?"

"Well, I—" Hermione stared at Harry for a long moment, her eyes glancing over his face.

He knew he'd made a mistake asking the question before she responded.

"Harry, you _know_ what my relationship with your mother is like," Hermione said. "Why are you acting like everything's changed?" She paused. "I still feel the same about you, want the same things, and I hope I still have the same place in your life."

How could he tell her he wasn't trying to push her out of his life, but merely understand the world in which he was now living? Harry knew a lot about Hermione, not the least of which is that for all her fussing over him, she cared deeply, more now than in his other life. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but how could he not do that when he couldn't seem to get a handle on how to talk to her? Leading his friend on was not an option, but he didn't think she would help him if he broke her heart either.

"We're going to be late," Hermione said. She reached under the table and grabbed her bag; it was stuffed nearly to the point of bursting with books, parchment and quills. Harry looked up and was startled that Hermione seemed to be looking everywhere but at his face. "I guess…I'll meet you outside after class. Have a good morning, Harry." With that, she walked away from the table.

Harry stared after her as she left the room, shoulders slouched, ignoring other students who waved or spoke to her until she'd disappeared through the doorway. As other students filed out of the room on the way to class, Harry took one last swig of pumpkin juice. From what had already transpired, he knew his day would be hard. He just had no idea how much.


	5. Identity

Hermione sat next to Lavender during History of Magic, ignoring Harry as he tried to get her attention before he settled at a desk in the next row. She studiously took notes throughout class while he tried in vain to get her to look his way, finally stopping when Professor Binns hovered in front of him and Dean, his droning, echoing voice rising a bit as he urged Harry to pay attention.

Feeling Hermione's agitation, Harry finally relented and settled himself to struggling to stay awake through what was easily the most boring class at Hogwarts.

* * *

The nurse checked the chart again before glancing down at the pale boy in the bed. "His fever's gone up five degrees since last night. I can't think of anything else for it. I'm sure Pepperup Potion won't do any good after this point. We've tried using a Blood Replenisher every four hours; it seems to have slowed the major effects. The cough has calmed a bit, but I'm not sure. Healer Strout?"

She nodded and turned from where she'd been examining the boy on the bed. He was twitching slightly in his potion-induced sleep, but was otherwise quiet. "Has word been sent to the Ministry?"

"I've alerted the Improper Use of Magic Office, it was all I could think to do. The message came back not ten minutes ago. Minister Dumbledore will be down to investigate personally."

The Healer didn't betray any surprise at this news. She had, in fact, expected it. "And the mother?"

At this question, the nurse's round face sagged in a heavy frown. "I've just heard back from Lily Snape as well. She said she visited Hogwarts first thing and her son is at school, in perfect health." She paused and let this comment sink in. "Perhaps his wand was stolen by this boy?"

The Healer stood away from the bed for a long moment, frowning down at the boy. The sound of his labored breathing filled the small room for a few long moments before she spoke again. "I suppose it's possible. But then," she turned to face the nurse, "why wouldn't Ollivander have said as much last night? The man's mind is as sharp as ever in my estimation. He would have known if the wand this boy had with him had been sold to him or some other child."

"I suppose, but with the amount of bruises he has, it'd be a miracle if anyone who knew him could recognize the child."

"Well," Healer Strout started, "once his bones have fully regrown and his bruises have healed a bit more, I'd like to wake him, ask a few questions. If this is the same as our previous case, we can't waste any time. We'll have to ask him how he contracted it; his case is advancing far more quickly than the previous case."

"That one took over a year?" she asked, making a notation on the chart with her quill.

"Yes," the Healer responded. "From all indications, his symptoms started with a small cough long before they became severe. And he did not take the physical beating this boy has; it is a wonder he lived through it. With the way this child's case is developing, unless we can find out what caused it, he may not have three months, if that." Healer Sprout sighed heavily and approached the bed, laying her head on the child's forehead as it burned with fever. "My greatest fear is that this child will become the first of many. Pray we do not have an epidemic on our hands."

* * *

"I'm sorry. I don't know how many other ways I can say it." Harry had not meant to raise his voice that loud and regretted it as soon as Hermione and several of his schoolmates turned to face him in the hall. Hermione speared him with a sharp look before rushing down the corridor again, not slowing until she reached the staircase. It moved away from her just as she reached it and she had to stop and wait for another, allowing Harry to catch up with her.

"Please, just talk to me," he pleaded.

"And say what?" she hissed between her teeth. "Would you like me to say it's okay for you to disrupt class by walking in late and interrupting the professor? It's okay for you to embarrass me and yourself by putting on that display?" She put one hand up and began counting off points on her fingers. "Is it okay for you to forget everything I've supposedly meant to you almost overnight?" Struggling to take a deep breath, she continued in a lower voice, aware of the other students behind them waiting to use the stairs. "Should I say it's fine that you disappeared with no explanation yesterday, you avoided me last night and now you're acting like I'm the one with the problem?"

Harry sighed. "No, I—"

"I don't want to hear it, Harry." Hermione turned then and jumped onto the staircase as it was moving into place, going down the stairs two and three at a time until she reached the dungeons. Harry caught up with her outside the hall that lead to Snape's office. "I thought you were just stressed out," she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. "I thought you wouldn't do this, but I was wrong."

"You said you'd give me a chance to explain everything. After the meeting—"

"After the meeting, we have Double Potions. I'm not going to be late on our first day back because you don't feel like having the responsibility anymore."

"Responsibility?" Harry resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes. Hermione had a flair for making everything more complicated than it needed to be. His life was complex enough without that.

"Yes," she said, frustration making her face flush red. "You can't stand to be at home, you don't want to do anything at school, and with me, you—Harry, you can't just throw everything away and decide not to participate in your own life."

"I'm not—"

"No," she said. "Now it's your turn to listen to me. I know you're angry about your mother, you—" Hermione swallowed and dropped her eyes away from his. "You probably regret telling me you love me and want to b-be with me, but you can't just pretend like none of it ever happened and try to act like everything can go back to the way it was." Her eyes lifted to his again and Harry felt gutted as he realized they were filled with tears. "I know things haven't been easy for you, but you can't just turn back the clock and refuse to grow up. Stop running away. Your life is changing and you have to deal with all of it, whether you want to or not."

The flood of words stopped as the door to Snape's office opened and he stepped out, his cold gaze surveying the two at the end of the hall. He returned to his office wordlessly, letting the door slam behind him.

"Whatever you want to say to me, let it wait until lunch," Hermione said. "I think I'll be ready to deal with you then."

Then she walked down the hall and into Snape's office, leaving Harry to follow, a hurt he hadn't thought he'd experience at her hands just beginning to take root.

* * *

Cool blue eyes surveyed the figure on the bed over half-moon spectacles. Frown lines etched into the old, worn face, making the wizard appear much older than his already advanced years. One hand moved to stroke the long white beard slowly before dropping to join it's mate, clasped before his waist. Dumbledore paced back and forth in front of the bed slowly, the bottoms of his deep purple robes swishing over the floor.

"Is it the same as before?" he asked no one in particular.

"I believe so, Minister," Healer Sprout responded. "We'll have to conduct several more tests, but it looks to be the same illness."

"And Lily Snape?"

"I—" The Healer looked around and the nurse nodded encouragingly, her movement unseen by Dumbledore. "After he was brought in last night, we asked Mr. Ollivander to identify the wand the young man carried. He identified the boy, but Mrs. Snape informed us this morning that Harry Potter is at Hogwarts. She never indicated that his wand might be miss—"

"Is she sure it is her son?" Dumbledore asked this in the same quiet tone, but the slow, careful way he asked brought a tension into the room that had not existed before.

"I…well, wouldn't she know?"

Dumbledore turned to face the Healer, the small frown on his face turned into a full-out scowl. "If this person is using Polyjuice Potion or some other means to disguise himself, there is no way of telling who is among the students at Hogwarts. There is no doubt in my mind that this boy," he pointed to the bed, his voice rising, "is Harry James Potter. I have known him since he was an infant and his parents long before that." His hand lowered and clenched into a fist at his side. The Healer stepped back, her eyes widening at the anger in Dumbledore's eyes.

He turned back to Harry. The boy's eyes moved beneath his fluttering lids, but he did not wake.

"Do what you can to get this boy in a state to talk and notify me the moment he wakes. Whoever did this to him is dangerous and must be stopped."

* * *

Headmistress McGonagall felt the presence of another person in the room before the older man cleared his throat from behind her. At the small noise, she turned and acknowledged the former Headmaster and current Minister of Magic with a small nod.

"There is a matter of grave importance to the school, Minerva," Dumbledore said without preamble.

She smiled and placed her quill upon the desk. "It always seems so with you, Albus. Has the Improper Use of Magic Office come up with new restrictions for the students? I assure you, I had enough explaining to do with parents when I had the students searched for, what was it? A lost batch of explosive quill ink. Has something similar happened? I thought you had warned them about losing defensive objects still under testing."

The portrait behind the desk had sat through this short speech in silence, and for a moment Minerva McGonagall thought it had returned to the normally still painting that sat behind her as Dumbledore conducted his work as Minister. If that was the case, she could expect him to step through her fireplace at any moment. When that did not happen, she inquired, "Albus? What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"One of the students has been attacked. At least, it appears so."

At this pronouncement, the Headmistress jumped from her desk and grabbed her wand from the blotter, intending to find the culprit before Dumbledore finished his explanation.

"Do you remember," Dumbledore began, "about ten years ago, when James Potter came down with that strange illness?"

"Oh, yes," she replied after a minute, twiddling her wand between her fingers. "I'll never forget it. He and Lily thought it was just an aggressive cold for months before she insisted he visit St. Mungo's. By then, there was nothing anyone could do. The suffering that poor young man endured before he finally died…I can't imagine—you're not saying one of my students has contracted this disease?"

"I'm saying Harry Potter was admitted to St. Mungo's last night and he appears to be suffering the early symptoms of that same illness."

"Could it be something that runs in his family?" McGonagall turned to her door quickly before facing the portrait again. "I was concerned that he hadn't made it to dinner last night. Miss Granger assured me he was merely tired." Her hands began twisting back and forth over each other. "I should speak to Professor Snape about this. He'll want to get in touch with his wife and go to the hospital."

"They were both notified this morning, I was told," Dumbledore said, arresting her movements. "Lily Snape responded to the hospital's Owl that her son had arrived at Hogwarts last night. She visited him this morning and informed the hospital that he is at school, unharmed. Minerva," his eyes narrowed from the painting behind the desk, "I was in the hospital this morning. The boy Lily met with is not her son."

McGonagall's hand went to her chest and she stumbled backwards a step, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Well then, who is he? There's not some sort of invasion planned on the school, is there? You don't suspect—" She paused, letting the unspoken suspicion hang in the air.

"I have not formed any theories yet, though I cannot rule out Dark Magic. Harry was attacked before getting onto the Hogwarts Express; his belongings had already been loaded. They found him in one of the bathrooms in the Muggle part of the station, with a Disillusionment Charm cast to conceal him. His physical injuries were, and still are, severe. The attacker probably thought he would be dead by the time he was found.

"I would like you to bring the person in question to this office and reverse the effects of Polyjuice Potion, if that is what he is using to disguise himself. Also, I am giving you permission to use Veritaserum. As much as you need." She gasped at this. "Whoever he is," Dumbledore continued, "it is quite possible he is the one that gave both James and Harry this dreadful disease. None of the Healers can determine the exact cause. There's a chance it is from both a potion and curse. He is the only key we have to curing it."

"And you'll remain in the office while I question him? If he's really that dangerous—"

"I'll have Aurors here on standby. Once we get the information we need, I'll have him arrested. I would never let you come to harm, Minerva," Dumbledore said, a surprisingly gruff note affecting his voice. "And please, do not inform anyone of what you are doing. There is no way of knowing if he is working with anyone else."

"What about Professor Snape? Surely he should know his stepson could be gravely ill."

The former Headmaster paused. "I don't wish to alert anyone else until we can be absolutely sure of this," he finally responded. "The boy has been moved to a secure, private ward at St. Mungo's with only a few of the staff allowed to work on him and know his identity. He will be kept safe under my direction. Until we can be sure of who is at fault, I will take no chances."

Minerva McGonagall nodded and took a deep breath. "I'll still have to go to Professor Snape for Veritaserum. He's the only person in the castle who keeps a store on hand. I'll be right back." She began heading for the door.

"Please, Minerva, be careful. We cannot let on that we suspect him."

She peered over her shoulder at the Minister and responded, "I'll do my best."


	6. Devils Inside the Walls

"Is everyone clear on the instructions?" Snape asked.

The Prefects responded with nods and there were a few "yes sirs" from the students around the room. In addition to Harry and Hermione, the other Prefects were Draco and Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin, Cho Chang and Roger Davies from Ravenclaw, and Zacharias Smith and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. To Harry's surprise and delight, Cedric Diggory was also there serving as Head Boy, with Angelina Johnson as Head Girl.

Harry had tried to control the light pangs of jealousy he was sure would be obvious to anyone who might be watching him, but he couldn't help a certain amount of regret as he watched Cedric and Cho hold hands through most of the meeting, sitting far too close to one another for their relationship to have regressed solely to friendship.

He thought with some agitation of how he and Cho had disagreed over his close friendship with Hermione, who had alternately been watching him throughout the meeting and swiftly averting her eyes when he'd tried to connect with her. Had Cho seen something then, in another life, that was too strong to ignore? He'd never wanted to consider Hermione as more than a friend, but the last few days had changed his perspective on a great deal of his life. Should he leave things the way they were and attempt a real relationship with her?

As she stood to leave the office, last behind the other students, Harry got the urge to beg Hermione to skip class with him, or at least give him a few minutes beforehand. He didn't think he could sit through an hour and a half of Potions with Snape barking orders and insulting him openly as usual while Hermione was upset with him. When all was said and done, he had to know she wouldn't hate him. The last thing he wanted to do was lose her friendship. Before he could reach the door, a strong hand clamped over his arm and forcibly pulled him back.

"A word, son?"

Irritated at Snape's use of the term, Harry turned and faced him, a frown etched on his face. "Professor?" He glanced down at Snape's hand on his arm and he released Harry, a faint smile crossing his face.

Harry was about to question this, when Snape looked over Harry's shoulder and said, "He'll be joining you in a few minutes, Miss Granger. There's no need to wait."

The moment the door closed behind Hermione, another mood pervaded the room. The tension in the air settled on Harry like a suffocating weight. He began to dread this second confrontation of the day, bound to be more intense now that they were assured privacy. Harry backed away a few steps and leaned against the side of one chair. His chest was suddenly tight, his lungs struggling to take in air. After a few seconds, the sensation passed and he looked across the room to Snape who had resumed his seat behind the desk.

"Potter," he said in a quiet voice, "I want you to tell me how you did it."

Barely a beat passed before Harry responded. "Did what?"

The black eyes narrowed on his and Harry braced himself for another attempt at Legilimency on Snape's part. When that didn't come, he let his body relax a bit. He was nowhere near out of the mess he'd fallen into, but the more he held Snape off, the easier it would be to get out unharmed. Harry didn't hold out much hope for that. Few things in his life so far had been simple.

"How did you get to school yesterday? I understand there was…a situation that prevented you from boarding the train."

It was then Harry realized what he was doing. Snape was speaking as if someone else were in the room listening, or as if someone could be recording his words. If Harry hadn't known it was impossible to use recording devices on Hogwarts grounds, he would've thought Snape was protecting himself against possible bugs in his office. More likely he was trying to draw Harry into a trap, forcing him to reveal information about what had happened the previous morning at King's Cross Station.

"Professor, do we really have to discuss this now? I would hate to be late for my favorite class. You know how much I love Potions." Harry followed this lie with a smile. He knew baiting Snape was probably a mistake, but he'd rather face the man's irritation than his questions. He was getting far too close to guessing that Harry hadn't been at the station the previous morning, at least, not in the way Snape thought. That is, if he hadn't guessed it already.

Harry had always had trouble hiding things from Snape, even when the man's suspicions led him down the wrong path. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when Harry was lying, which, he now recognized, was because he'd possibly been reading his mind since first year. Still, his instincts were finely tuned and not to be underestimated. The last thing Harry needed, to spare his life if nothing else, was for Snape to somehow guess even part of the truth.

Harry thought he detected a faint gleam of malice in the black eyes before Snape responded. "I don't believe your professor will have a problem if you are a few minutes late. I'll see to it." Another faint smile appeared before he said, "I want answers from you. You never struck me as the type who could master any form of Dark Magic, or evade it if the time came." Snape leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of his stomach; his elbows rested on the arms of the chair.

"Yesterday and this morning you managed something rather difficult for someone of your age and mediocre skill. I don't believe for a minute you got away yesterday unscathed." With that, Snape gestured to Harry's forehead and the lightning bolt scar that was visible just beneath his hair. His eyes narrowed. "I want to know what you did. You will not leave this office without giving me answers."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything wrong," Harry said. He took a quick step backward and stumbled as his foot collided with another chair. Snape waved his wand offhandedly and cleared the room of extra chairs, leaving two against the far wall of his office.

"No one is accusing you of any wrongdoing—" He stopped in mid-sentence and glanced up as the door to his office opened. Harry turned and breathed a sigh of relief as Professor McGonagall stepped into the office.

"I apologize for interrupting you Severus, but I need—Oh!" She jumped and offered a shaky smile. "Hello Mr. Potter. E-enjoying your first day back?"

Harry smiled. He'd never wanted to hug the older woman before, but he couldn't help the sudden bloom of affection he felt now. "Very much, Professor. If you need to speak with Professor Snape, I'll just go on to class. I'd hate to be late." Harry smiled over his shoulder and ran out of the office before Snape could stop him. He slipped down the hall and into the Potions classroom, offering thanks to anyone listening to his thoughts that he had escaped facing interrogation alone with Snape. For now.

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be needing the entire bottle Minerva? Most interrogations don't require such a large amount," Snape drawled, studying her from behind his propped hands. He had relaxed back into his chair after Harry left, an unreadable expression on his face as the Headmistress made her request.

McGonagall smiled, having regained her composure since running into Harry minutes before. "I believe this will be sufficient. I'll return whatever I don't use as soon as possible. I know how difficult it is to procure Veritaserum."

"Don't trouble yourself, Minerva," Snape responded. "I have another bottle."

"Why is that, Severus?" she asked. She regretted the question almost immediately as the unnerving smile widened on the pale face.

"In case of emergency," he said. He surveyed her carefully. "You never know when answers will be…difficult to come by." The corners of his mouth quirked up before his face settled into its usual sober expression. "My resourcefulness seems to have served you well today."

McGonagall nodded and thanked him, exiting his office quickly. She wondered how often he'd slipped the heavily regulated potion to students without their knowledge. She quickly dismissed the thought from her mind. Albus had vouched for his trustworthiness years ago and Severus Snape had given no one cause to doubt him since then. The man's cool manner not withstanding, there was no reason he could not be given the benefit of the doubt where student safety was concerned.

* * *

Harry hurried across the Potions classroom and slipped into the seat next to Hermione before anyone else could sit in front of that cauldron. He heard her sigh heavily and ignored it as he placed a hand over her wrist on the table. "We need to talk."

"Later," she whispered.

"You said you don't want me to run away," Harry began, "But you can't fault me for not giving you an explanation if you keep pushing me away."

Wide brown eyes met his. "That's not fair, Harry. You—" She stopped when Draco sat on Harry's other side. Not paying the two any attention, he began searching through his bag before pulling out his textbook. "We'll talk about this later, Harry. You know where."

She pulled her arm away from him then, reaching into her bag to pull out her own supplies. After watching her a moment, Harry began doing the same, marveling that this version of himself was far more organized than he was used to being. Hermione's influence, he supposed. Harry would never forget her brilliant idea of giving him and Ron talking homework journals for Christmas.

"I'm sorry," he said again, drawing Draco's attention. The blonde raised his eyebrows in question and Harry shook his head, watching Hermione as she opened her textbook to the first chapter. She wasn't fooling him one bit. If he knew her at all, he could be sure she'd studied half the spells in the book already, if only so Snape wouldn't pick on her the first day. If that was the case, Harry felt she was wasting her time. Snape wasn't the kind to take mercy on anyone once they were in his sights and he seemed to be in rare form today.

A cold feeling settled in his stomach as he heard the door to the class open and close in the back, followed by the light click of heels across the stone floor. Stepfather or not, Harry didn't expect any favoritism. It would probably be worse, he reasoned. Snape would expect him to be better than everyone in the class because it would be a reflection on him. Harry closed his eyes and began mentally preparing himself to sit through an hour and a half of Snape at his condescending best. The feel of long, sharp nails sliding over his scalp forced his eyes open.

"Hello Harry," a low, raspy voice said. "How's my other favorite nephew?"

Harry turned and nearly fell off his stool as Bellatrix Lestrange leaned over him, a chilling grin touching her thin lips. She ruffled his hair a bit before straightening, letting her fingers play at his neck. "I missed you at dinner last night. I overheard Miss Granger informing the Headmistress that you weren't feeling well. I trust you're better today?" she asked, renewing her smile for him as if they shared a secret.

Harry felt a revulsion so strong, it rivaled only the nausea he'd felt as he'd watched Snape kiss his mother earlier. He could only hope the way she'd referred to him was an unfortunate nickname. He watched Bellatrix's other hand drift to Draco's shoulder before he answered.  
"I—I'm a little better, I suppose. Still not a hundred percent." He couldn't help the way his voice dwindled into a reedy note in the cool dungeon room. The last time he'd seen this woman, she'd been attempting to torture him. When he thought of all the people she'd hurt—including Neville's parents—he shuddered to consider who had to be bribed to get her a job around helpless students.

She smiled again and gave his hair one last caress before releasing him. "Perhaps today's lesson can help you with that." Bellatrix gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze before she made her way to the front of the classroom and pointed her wand at the chalk, which rose from where it rested in front of the board and wrote the words "Draught of Peace."

Harry sighed in relief. Though the potion was difficult, he'd already learned from his mistakes attempting to make it for Snape and knew he could handle this first assignment without a problem. He was also happy that Hogwarts hadn't sunk low enough to allow Bellatrix and other Death Eaters to teach students how to torture and poison each other. Though, not having attended his other classes yet, he had no idea how true that was. He wouldn't put it past any of them to begin training students too young to know any better.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'he seemed the same', Minerva?"

The Headmistress frowned up at Dumbledore in his frame, her arms crossed before her. "Don't look at me as if I've lost all my senses, Albus. I know you said he may be someone else in disguise, but I'm telling you, there's no way any spell could recreate those eyes—his soul—oh, I don't know what I'm going on about," she said, waving one hand absently. "It was just a feeling I got. With the exception of a scratch on his forehead, he appears to be the same child we've known for years."

Dumbledore sat silently for a moment and, again, she wondered if he had left the portrait and would step into her office. "I had hoped you could be objective about this."

"Where does objectivity fit into it?" she replied, her voice rising in pitch. "I'd hate to think of any of these students in danger, even less that this person is capable of inflicting a horrible disease that cannot be cured by modern means. I would like to believe there is another explanation for it, that is all."

"Would you like me to send Aurors in to do the questioning? If you don't feel you can handle—"

"Of course I can handle it, Albus!" she snapped, her eyes narrowing on the portrait before her. "I will do everything I can to help the Ministry find out what is going on, I just wish there was some other method. Are you sure the child in the hospital is Harry Potter? You mentioned extensive injuries."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "As he was just barely conscious, it was quite easy to read his thoughts. That is something a mere charm could not disguise. They were slightly muddled because of his physical state, but I am sure it was Harry I saw this morning. Please, talk to this other person."

McGonagall reached for the box of ginger cookies on the corner of her desk, prying it open with trembling fingers. She opened the bottle of Veritaserum and poured it liberally over the treats in the box, watching as the cookies absorbed the liquid quickly and silently.

"Perhaps a quick cup of tea to settle my nerves first, Albus. I have to be careful how I go about this."

Dumbledore made no objection as she settled behind her desk and conjured a cup from the Hogwarts kitchens. He knew, after all, that her interrogation of the person imitating a boy they knew and cared for was the best chance they had of getting at the truth without suspicion.

* * *

Harry pored over his cauldron, stirring it the requisite number of times before scanning his Potions book for the instructions to add the next ingredient. He felt her eyes on him again and looked up to find Bellatrix smiling in his direction, her dark gaze traveling over his features before she returned to where she'd been watching Neville struggle through the beginning steps of the potion's preparation. She murmured to the other boy encouragingly and smiled as he appeared to do better under her instructions.

Catching Hermione's gaze out of the corner of his eye, Harry returned to his classwork, his mind on anything but the task in front of him. There seemed a simple explanation for the undue attention—Snape was having his fellow Death Eater keep an eye on Harry, the attention on his activities he'd been promised. Still, there was something odd about the way she kept looking at Harry across the classroom, the smile on her face, the way she'd touched him before class had begun.

In a way, it was as if she was attracted—Harry shuddered and blinked rapidly down at his Potions book. There was no way Bellatrix Lestrange felt that way about anyone who wasn't wearing a Dark Mark, least of all someone young enough to be her son. That being the case, why was she staring at him as if she were trying to memorize the placement of every hair on his head? If possible, this was creepier than the faux baby voice she'd used to tease him in the Department of Mysteries. At least he'd been aware of her objective then—to get into his head before she moved in for the kill. Now? Now he couldn't tell down from up where a lot of these people were concerned.

Especially Hermione. She'd gone from hot to cold in a matter of seconds, understanding to fussing before he could even process what she was talking about. At least he'd be able to straighten her out before the day was through. That'd be one less thing he'd have to concern himself with while he attempted to figure out how Snape had landed him in the hospital. That it was Snape, he was absolutely sure. Now that he couldn't figure out how Harry had escaped his fate—though, in actuality, he hadn't—Snape was bound to try again. Harry had to put a stop to all of it before it was too late.

Professor McGonagall's voice broke into Harry's thoughts.

"I hope you don't mind, Bellatrix. I know it's the first day back to lessons, but I must speak with Mr. Potter immediately." Her sharp tones carried throughout the classroom and Harry felt the class's eyes on him as both Bellatrix Lestrange and Minerva McGonagall stopped before his cauldron.

Bellatrix smiled at Harry. "I see no reason why Harry can't join you in your office, Minerva." She peered down at his cauldron. "He seems to be doing well at this lesson. Why don't you attempt to make this potion at another time and turn it in to me before class time on Wednesday, Harry?" Before he could finish nodding, she'd waved her wand over his cauldron and the bubbling potion and fire beneath it both disappeared.

"Potter?" Professor McGonagall said, waving her hand before her. Harry quickly gathered his belongings and shoved them on top of everything else in his bag. As the Headmistress hurried him out of the room, Harry got the strange feeling that instead of saving him as she'd done earlier in Snape's office, now she was doing the exact opposite.


	7. Verum Infidus

Professor McGonagall offered the open tin to Harry, a wide smile on her face. "Have a biscuit, Potter."

Remembering the last time she'd offered him one in her office, Harry took it without hesitating, sure he was about to receive a lecture or detention or something else that was his modus operandi in starting the school year at Hogwarts.

"I would like to speak with you about the events that occurred yesterday."

Harry frowned around the cookie he'd stuffed into his mouth and chewed fiercely, swallowing hard. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Is there something specific you want to talk about?" Surely, the one professor he thought he could trust wasn't working for Snape as well?

"I mean, what happened on your way to school?" She leaned against the front of her desk and smiled faintly, her wand seemingly pointed in his direction. After a few seconds of watching Harry intently, she stood from her desk and moved to sit behind it, levitating the tin forward with a silent spell. "Have another biscuit, Potter."

"I don't know if I should. I have lunch in—"

"I insist." She smiled and Harry was taken aback. Though not a mean woman, Minerva McGonagall hardly smiled at anyone this much, least of all a student with a penchant for breaking the rules.

"I know how teenage boys are," she continued. "By the time you get down to the Great Hall, it'll be as if you'd never eaten anything at all. Go on."

At her direction, he took another ginger cookie, this time carefully shifting them around with his fingers, searching for one near the bottom. He didn't think she'd attempt to poison him, but Harry had no way of knowing if the woman running the school was acting of her own free will. Hadn't he been told that Death Eaters sought to control people in positions of power? He knew firsthand how difficult it was to throw off the Imperius Curse, and that was when he'd known it was coming.

After examining it quickly, he ate the cookie, pondering how to answer her question. "I didn't get on the train yesterday. When it left I was—" _using a Time-Turner_, his mind screamed at him to say. Shaking the thought off, he said, "I was traveling and didn't make it."

"How did you get to the school then?" She offered the tin again silently and Harry took another cookie without a fuss. "I don't recall Severus leaving Hogwarts to come for you, or receiving a message from you that you had missed the train."

"I…you saw Professor Snape before the train arrived? When?"

"Well, yes. I saw him out on the grounds in the morning." Shaking her head quickly, she persisted. "How did you get to the school, Mr. Potter?"

"I used the Floo Network to get from the Ministry of Magic to the Gryffindor common room." Inwardly, Harry cursed at himself for admitting he'd been at the Ministry at all. He had no reasonable excuse for being there. He reached for a cookie before Professor McGonagall could offer him another one. Eating would give him a chance to avoid talking for a few seconds.

She surveyed him over her square black glasses. Her placating smile had been replaced by her usual scowl. "Did you have business at the Ministry that you felt was more important than catching the train to school, Potter?"

"I wanted to speak to Dumbledore." That, at least, was the truth. Not all of it. Not the reason he was in the building, but it was what he'd been thinking about as he'd stood in the Atrium, realizing the train for school had come and gone. Glancing at the portrait hanging behind the Headmistress's desk, Harry thought he'd seen it blink. _That isn't possible_, he thought. _Not unless Dumbledore is dead_. At least, that was how he understood the enchantment to work.

"The Minister? Why?"

"I—" _Think!_ "I have a question for him, about something I need help with."

Only her solitary raised eyebrow betrayed her surprise. "Potter, tell me. The train left at eleven in the morning and you did not arrive at Hogwarts until after dinner had begun. Where were you all that time? I think it is safe to say you were not waiting outside the Minister's office all day on a Sunday."

Harry wracked his brain for a response and could not think of one that wouldn't immediately land him in trouble. He was very fuzzy on the punishments one could receive for time traveling without permission, but he didn't think a year's worth of detention was even going to come close if McGonagall decided to turn him in.

"I don't want to tell you," he finally blurted, alarm crossing his features as he sat back in the chair.

McGonagall levitated the empty tin to the trash can next to her desk. The expressions on her face ran the gamut between confusion and frustration, finally settling on a weary kind of acceptance.

"Did you do something illegal yesterday?" The movement was subtle, but Harry noticed her wand was pointed at him again, trained directly at his chest from its vantage point on the desk. Her fingers lingered lightly over the handle.

"I…no. But, I didn't get permission and I know the Ministry regulates it."

"Regulates? Permission for what?" She paused and turned her head at an angle, studying him from over the tops of her glasses. "Who are you?"

"Pardon?"

"Who are you?" she enunciated slowly.

"Harry Potter." His eyes widened in alarm. _Am I—the other me—on the school grounds somewhere?_ Suddenly afraid she was on the verge of cursing him, he said, "Professor McGonagall, you know me. My birthday is July thirty-first. I've been at Hogwarts since I was eleven." He continued when she looked skeptical, his words coming out in a rush. "My parents were here before me. They were both in Gryffindor. My father was the Chaser for the House team. My mother was Head Girl her last year. I've played Seeker since—"

"You've played Quidditch?" She leaned forward on the desk then, her eyes boring into his.

"I…did. Not recently, though." At least he could be sure Umbridge's lifetime ban would no longer apply. He had to get back on the House team once he'd gotten everything else straightened out.

McGonagall's eyes closed and she leaned back in the chair again, her lips moving in a rapid whisper. "Mr. Potter?" She spoke in a low voice, eyes still closed.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry hadn't been aware of it before, but now all of the paintings in the room seemed awake and alive, no longer shamming sleep as they usually did when the Head of Hogwarts was in office. They all seemed to be watching him closely, some with disapproving scowls on their faces. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus, Sirius Black's great-great-grandfather, seemed most upset of all; the corners of his mouth were twitching as he apparently fought the urge to interrupt the questioning.

Harry suddenly wished he'd thought of other things to say to her, other traits she would recognize as belonging uniquely to him. But there were none, he realized. Every memory he had, save for his own existence, belonged to another world, another Harry that no one here would know. He could only hope he wouldn't end up in Azkaban for what he'd done.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?" Professor McGonagall opened her eyes then and eyed Harry as he shifted in his chair, his chin wobbling as he struggled to think of an answer. It was a question he'd heard from Dumbledore several times and he'd never been able to answer it.

"Are you going to hurt the students of this school?" she asked.

"Me? No!" He sat up from the back of the chair then. "Why would you think that?"

"What is it you're not telling me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes. His right hand rubbed absently at the tingling scar on his forehead. He was fighting the urge, the almost overwhelming desire to confess everything he'd done, but he couldn't. He knew that giving up all of his information was giving up what little control he did have over the situation. And he just couldn't do that. Not without knowing for sure there was someone in his corner. Not with his own disappearance and hospitalization. Not with Snape out to get him. He couldn't take that chance.

"There's someone here who I think wants to hurt me," he said finally. He opened his eyes to find Professor McGonagall regarding him warily. "I think…he's tried at least once. I don't want to tell you anything about yesterday or what I'm doing now because…I think you'll act on it."

"As well I should, Mr. Potter. If there's any danger—"

"There's no proof." He let the few words hang in the air before continuing. "I don't want to accuse him or anyone else until I know for sure. I don't even know why he's after me. I'm pretty sure the rest of the students are safe, but if I accuse him now, without proof, he'll know I suspect him. And he'll be more careful." Harry frowned, trying to think of another way to phrase the next statement. He had never been able to come to Dumbledore with any of his suspicions like this and it felt strange confessing his fears before the Headmistress now. Would she be willing to let him find out what was happening on his own, without interfering? Or would she not be willing to take that chance?

"I know you have to keep Hogwarts safe." He rubbed at his scar again. "I'm not here to put the other students in danger. I just need…I need you to trust me. T-trust that I want to make sure this other person is not a threat." Warm tears streaked down the sides of his face, wrought from the effort it was taking him not to spill out everything he knew and suspected. "Can you please just give me that? Or are you going to have me arrested?"

"Arrested…" McGonagall turned away from him briefly, glancing at the portrait of Dumbledore behind her desk. She stood abruptly and walked around the desk, stopping in front of Harry. "As far as I know, you haven't done anything against the law, but I have to warn you, Mr. Potter. There are several people interested in what you're doing right now, and I cannot protect you if you step out of line. I would be the first to protect everyone in this school, without hesitating. I want that understood."

Harry nodded, not sure if this was a reprieve from further interrogation or another threat.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter. This person who may be after you…is it a Professor?"

Harry attempted to shake his head and instead turned wide eyes up to her. "You gave me something, didn't you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"There was something in the cookies. Or a spell. I can't…" Harry dropped his head and picked up his bag, slinging a strap over his shoulder as he stood. "If I tell you, he will try to kill me, Professor. This time, he might actually do it." With that, Harry strode across the room and pushed through the door, sure the Headmistress would keep the door from letting him out. When that didn't happen, Harry nearly sobbed in relief. He made his way down the winding staircase and out into the hall, sure his escape had been narrow, and most definitely temporary. With Hermione to question him next, he could only be so lucky.

* * *

Harry turned in front of the Room of Requirement for the third time, shifting from foot to foot impatiently as he waited for the door of the room to form in the wall. The doorknob had just come into being when Hermione stepped up beside him wordlessly. She had several books clutched in her arms and she stared at them rather than look at Harry.

"I'm glad you didn't change your mind about meeting me."

She nodded. "We have to get this over with."

Not liking the finality with which she made the pronouncement, Harry opened the door and let Hermione enter the room before him. He glanced around the hall quickly and then followed her inside, closing the door firmly behind them.

"You got the Room to give us lunch?" Hermione asked as Harry came to stand beside her. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Me either," Harry admitted. "I just asked for it to bring us the plates that would be in our usual spot in the Great Hall. The Hogwarts kitchens did the rest." There was a small table set for two with roast chicken, salad, a plate of sandwiches, chips and two different types of pudding. A pitcher of iced pumpkin juice and two glasses stood to the side. Harry looked at the rest of the room and acknowledged the large throw pillows, overstuffed sofa, and—to his chagrin—a bed off to one corner. He had not requested that last.

Hermione went over to the sofa and dropped her things next to it; her suddenly weary form flopped to the sofa seconds later. Harry followed tentatively. He stood before her at a loss for words, intimidated by the look she gave him, a mixture of anger and fear of what was to come. "Well?" she asked after he'd been standing there a minute.

Harry dropped his bag next to hers and moved back a step. "Maybe we should eat lunch first," he said, gesturing to the table.

Hermione responded by crossing her arms and leaning back into the sofa. "I don't think stalling will solve anything. Talk."

He began to pace back and forth in front of where she sat, fleeting thoughts of the Order, Voldemort and the prophecy currently in his trunk crossing through his mind. Where to begin? It was all too complicated to tell her in the hour they had. He knew she wouldn't give him the extra time needed to explain everything, not on the first day of classes. Hermione was scowling now, looking as if she wanted to leave. He had to say something.

"I don't want you to be upset with me." She snorted. "And I don't want you to be scared," he continued. Hermione's eyes widened at this and she sat up. Her hand slipped into her pocket. "I'm not who you think I am. Not exactly. Not the same person I was." Harry backed away another step as she pulled out her wand and trained it on him. "I am, just not in the way you think."

When Hermione didn't immediately relax, Harry went to the table and began to fix himself a plate, feeling that if he was going to be executed, he'd rather it be on a full stomach. After a couple of minutes, Hermione joined him. He poured them both drinks as she sat down.

"I want to start with the Time-Turner you used to get to classes third year," Harry said, taking a stab that at least that hadn't changed. He'd noticed one of her Ancient Runes books and knew a double schedule years earlier was the only way she could be taking that class now.

Hermione stopped reaching for food in mid-motion. "I…what? No one was supposed to—how did you know?" she sputtered.

"Because you used it with me once."

"No." She shook her head emphatically. "Professor McGonagall would've killed me if I'd done that without permission. Never mind the Ministry."

"There's a reason you don't remember any of it," Harry said. He waited until he caught her eyes across the table before he added, "It never happened."

"What?" She glanced at her wand and then back to Harry. "You've lost me."

"Then let me explain. Without interruptions."

Harry then told Hermione about the fight at the Ministry—but not who had driven him there in the first place—that he'd gone back in time and changed the past, and returning to the school at the wrong date. He decided to leave out the events of the day so far, figuring she had enough to consider. He began eating as Hermione started her rant.

"So to you…we…never?! You don't remember? Or we _never_?" Her voice rose and her face reddened with each subsequent incomplete question. "And the letters you read? But you're not…? You could end up in Azkaban for this, Harry! And if you're here, but you're not supposed to be, then where are you? Or, the other you? My boyfriend—where is he?" She sighed. "We have to tell Professor McGonagall."

"No!" Harry burst out through a mouthful of food. "That's the last thing we need to do."

"Why? I mean, if all of this is true, we need her help."

"Because," he began, "telling any teacher at this school will probably get me killed."


	8. Secrets and Promises

Professor McGonagall paced back and forth in her office, the sound of her footfalls obscured by the worried murmurings of the portraits around her. She tapped her wand against her palm as she walked; it shot out bright red sparks at every hit.

"Minerva?"

"I know what you're going to say, Albus." She stopped pacing long enough to glare at the portrait that had gone still again. "I pulled him directly out of class. There wasn't enough time for him to take an antidote for the Veritaserum. And I'm positive Severus gave me the correct potion. He seemed almost gleeful about it." She resumed her pacing.

"That's not what was I going to say at all," he responded when she had grown quiet. "I'm going to have Magical Law Enforcement and possibly the Department of Mysteries investigate this. I don't know how it's possible, but it seems we have two."

"Two?" A look of confusion briefly crossed her face. "Two Harry Potters?" McGonagall stopped and stared at the painting behind her, where the normally composed Albus Dumbledore sat looking just as agitated and bewildered as she felt. "That's not possible."

"I never assume I know all that is possible where magic is concerned. If he was indeed telling the truth—and I believe only a very powerful wizard could resist the affects of even a normal dose of Veritaserum—there is no recourse we can take that would not endanger him and the young man in St. Mungo's at this very moment."

"But—but, then what do we do? I've never seen anything like this before."

"Nor have I, but there's got to be an explanation for it. If a Hogwarts professor is involved—"

"You believe that?" McGonagall stared at the man in the frame, hoping he would negate her question.

"Do you believe it was possible for Harry to lie given the extreme dose of Veritaserum you gave him? I don't believe he'll be capable of telling any sort of lie for a few days, at the very least. That on it's own will put him in a great deal of danger."

"But a Hogwarts professor? Who? Why?"

"That's what the young man who has just left your office wishes to find out, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Short of arresting him, I don't believe there's anything we can do to stop him from this quest. And if there is no proof as of yet, forcing him to accuse one of his professors will only result in a tragic end for both young men, I am afraid. No, we cannot act until we get more information."

"Then I've failed," she said, her voice and expression weary. "I wasn't supposed to appear suspicious, but the more he answered my questions, the more I felt something was wrong."

"You acted just as I would have Minerva, if not a sight more calmly. You did everything you could."

She shook her head. "I did every spell I could think of before giving him the Veritaserum, and he had no reaction."

"He was not in disguise," Dumbledore said simply. "He is Harry Potter."

"But the boy in the hospital?" She sighed and fell into the chair behind her desk, facing the portrait. "And the scar on his forehead, what of that?"

"That is curious," the wizard responded. "On the surface, it does not appear to be a serious wound. I would have to examine it more closely to be positive, but surely you realize, if it was a normal cut, it would've been healed by now. Even if it had been inflicted yesterday."

McGonagall nodded absently, her mind still on the interrogation that hadn't gone as well as she'd planned.

"The scar appeared to be bothering him a great deal. That boy has been touched by a curse. You will have to gain his trust to find out how."

"Me? He already knows I gave him something. What reason would he have to trust me now?"

"He has every reason in the world," Dumbledore said. "If he is truly in danger at Hogwarts, you're the only person who can keep him alive."

* * *

Harry hesitated, but after a few long moments, he circled the table and put an arm around Hermione. Her crying at his last statement had unsettled him, but there was nothing he could do to take it back or undo the truth of it. This had become a matter of life and death and her first instinct, to get someone else involved, would resolve the matter. And not in a way that would most benefit Harry.

She pushed against his chest and pulled away, rising from the table and walking across the room. Hermione turned back to face him and wiped at her streaming eyes with the heels of her hands. "So, when you kissed me last night…?"

Harry let his eyes drop and felt a lurch deep in his stomach as her sobbing grew louder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant to hurt you."

"You never meant to hurt me?" she shrieked. "What did you think would happen when you kissed me back? I thought…well, never mind what I thought. If you really cared about me, as a _friend_, you never would've done that to me." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Why didn't you tell me any of this last night?"

"I didn't think it would go this far, actually." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I expected the other me would show up to Hogwarts and Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would help me get back to where I need to be. Besides, would you have believed me? I don't think you believe me now."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "I don't know what to think. This seems too elaborate an excuse just to break up with me. You know you can talk to me about anything," she added almost as an afterthought.

That wouldn't have necessarily been true before, but as of now, Hermione was the only person he could depend on. The only person he could rely on when everything seemed to be going to hell. "That's why I'm telling you the truth," Harry said quietly. "If it helps, I think Professor McGonagall gave me Veritaserum when I was in her office."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why would she do that? It's forbidden to use on students. Did you do something to provoke it?"

"I think…I think she knows I'm not really supposed to be here. That's why she pulled me out of class to question me. My mum got an Owl from St. Mungo's this morning, maybe the school did too. I think that's where I am."

Hermione sat down on the sofa hard, shaking her head. "I don't suppose you have an explanation for that." She let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling, her voice reduced to a whisper. "None of this makes any sense."

"I know and I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!"

"I—" Harry hesitated. He couldn't be sure how much of the rest of the story she'd believe, but he had to take a chance. It was too late to turn back now. "You may not believe this, but I think Snape had me attacked yesterday. At King's Cross. You said that my things were on the train, but I wasn't?" She made a noise of assent. "He seemed very surprised to see me at school this morning. Then he threatened me."

At this, Hermione sat up and stared at him.

"He said something along the lines of, he didn't know how I managed it and I had better stay out of his way. I think he tried to kill me." Harry closed his eyes as the words left his mouth; they rang true the more he considered it. "Whatever I was getting into…before…he was very upset about it. He's watching me now. If I go to anyone, including Professor McGonagall, he's going to hurt me again. Next time I might not be lucky enough to end up in the hospital."

Hermione let this sink in for a minute before responding. "You're right, I don't—I don't know what to think." She began twirling a lock of her hair around her finger, her gaze unfocused as she continued processing everything he'd told her. "What will you do? What if he does something anyway? How will anyone know?"

"I've already warned Professor McGonagall that someone at the school might be after me. If…something happens to me, it'll be up to you to tell her who I suspect." Harry's eyes widened as another thought occurred to him. He kneeled in front of Hermione and took both her hands in his. "You have to promise me something."

"I can't," she began. At his entreating look, tears began to fill her eyes again. "What?"

"You can't let on that you know anything," Harry said. "You have to act normal in class, around the school, any time you're around him. If Snape even suspects I've told you anything, he'll do something to you. I can't let anything happen to you."

She stared at him a moment. "Even though I'm only your friend?"

Harry flinched at the bitter note to her voice. Though he understood it, it was still difficult to bear. "Especially because you're my friend. It would kill me if anything happened to you."

She looked surprised at this, but covered it up by pulling her hands from his and wiping away the tears that still streaked down both cheeks. "So, now what?"

"First, I think, we have to pretend to still be a couple."

Hermione's hands dropped from her face. "What?"

Harry didn't like the low grumble that was passing for Hermione's voice. He stood and backed away a few steps, suddenly glad she'd left her wand on the table. "Just in public, for appearances. He'll be looking for any signs of a change around me. I can't let him find anything. Not until I know what really happened yesterday and why. And being close to you will be the best way I can make sure you stay safe."

Hermione just stared at Harry, her expression mutinous.

"I also need to find out what was going on before school started. Yesterday, you said," he paused as Hermione rolled her eyes, "You said I had a lot going on. I need you to tell me everything. If we're really that close—" he ignored her deepening frown at this— "I had to have told you something useful."

She didn't say anything for a long while, seeming to stare at a point somewhere over Harry's shoulder. Finally, she nodded and looked at him. "There's a lot I can tell you. It'll have to wait, though. We both have class in a few minutes and then Double Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said on a sigh. "If there was any class I'd like to avoid now, I would if I could."

"Why?" Harry asked, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"Being in a room with your stepfather where I'm supposed to be learning to defend myself—Harry, it's the ultimate in irony. I don't know how I'm going to get through the class without letting on that I know anything."

"You have to, Hermione. It's my life on the line."

She nodded. "And now mine too."


	9. The Boy Who Lived

Professor Trelawney could always be counted on to remain the same, whatever else had changed in Harry's world. Almost from the moment he'd climbed up the ladder to her tower-top classroom, he spotted her going from table to table making off the wall predictions, including which students were "in grave danger" or would die a horrific death that year. The sound of the wonky woman in head-to-toe shawls and beads, and even the almost overpowering smell of incense in the warm room was almost a comfort to Harry. At least in this life, her predictions for him could hardly be as ominous as they once were. After all, he'd already evaded death at least twice in the last week. He found himself smiling as the professor Hermione considered the least credible made her way around the room, exclaiming over her returning students in preparation for that day's "mystical and mysterious" lesson.

"I take it you made up."

Harry looked up after Ron addressed him from across the small table, a glint of humor in the other boy's eyes. "I'm sorry?"

"You and Hermione. She looked ready to hex you in History of Magic and you were both missing at lunch." Ron shot him a goofy grin. "From the smile you've got now… I know you needed to calm her down, but one of these days you're going to get caught again. McGonagall was really nuts about those kinds of things at the end of last term."

Harry pretended to study the crystal ball on the stand in the center of the table. "I don't know what you're talking about." He felt his face go warm as Ron's soft laugh carried over to him.

In truth, Harry had no idea how to react. The last thing he'd been doing at lunch was calming Hermione from one of her moods and he felt pretty lucky she hadn't cursed him with something he could never get removed. He thought fleetingly of the bumps Marietta Edgecombe would never be able to get rid of once she'd betrayed the D.A. There was no way he'd end up in her position if he could help it—at the business end of a hex from Hermione.

"Whatever mate," Ron said, turning back to open his copy of _The Dream Oracle_.

How much did Ron and everyone else know about how close he and Hermione were supposed to be? Normally his private life—what little he had—wouldn't be that widely known. But this was a new life, a new Harry who probably didn't have the attention of the Wizarding world on his every move. Now he had to be careful. Though it would obviously hurt her, Harry knew asking Hermione about their relationship would be one of the keys to keeping his mission hidden. The more he appeared the same to Snape and everyone else, the less anyone would pay attention to what Harry feared might be a long-running investigation.

He was glad only a few people had noticed anything different so far. Snape, in spite of the death threats, could be handled. Harry was used to the tactics employed by the man he was growing to hate. On the other hand, McGonagall's attitude had come as a surprise. He should've expected it, he knew she was the school disciplinarian. She was—

"Oh, my dear boy!"

Harry looked up from where he'd been absently gazing in the general direction of the crystal ball to find Professor Trelawney pointing at him. He fought the impulse to smile. Here was his own death omen from the professor, right on time. He shifted in his seat as she began. His eyes widened as she stepped forward and appeared to be pointing right past him.

"Oh dear…" Trelawney said, her voice rising and falling into a soft whisper. Harry turned and saw she was pointing at Neville, who slouched and covered his face with his hands as he sat next to Lavender. Harry knew the feeling. He let a small grin cross his features briefly as Trelawney stepped closer, the bracelets crowding her wrist jangling as she focused her attention on the student behind Harry.

"You are in grave danger," she continued, her eyes wide behind the thick glasses. She slowly walked to Neville and Lavender's table. Her hand went to cover Neville's where it rested and she frowned, shaking her head as she spoke. "I sense a catastrophic event in your future. Someone you love will…" Trelawney paused as if debating her next words. "I cannot say it, it is much too horrific." She closed her eyes. "Tragedy will follow you in abundance this year. You will lose an old friend soon." She patted his hand and opened her eyes, slowly backing from the table. "I fear you will suffer a life-threatening attack before the end of the year. Tell me boy, will you be careful?"

"Yes, Professor," Neville responded mechanically, as if he heard this same prediction all the time.

"Good," she responded. "Though, I do not know what good it will do," she added. "The fates have already decided." She turned from him and gazed around the room again, in search of her next subject. Her gaze settled on Harry and he bounced lightly on his seat, fully prepared to receive the same type of prediction she'd given Neville.

She stopped before him and frowned, her wide brown eyes blurry behind the thick lenses of her glasses. "Harry Potter?" she asked in a clear, flat voice, her head cocked to the side. Suddenly, Harry felt the class's eyes turn to him, undoubtedly drawn by the strange note to the professor's voice as she spoke to him. He was startled himself. He couldn't recall an instance where she'd ever addressed a student by their full name in that tone when making a prediction.

"You," she said slowly, "are a stranger in this life. Your journey here was snatched from the jaws of fate." She paused dramatically. A small tinkle of laughter could be heard from the far side of the room.

_There's no way she could really know_ _that_, he thought. Harry sank lower onto the puffy bunch of fabric and cushioning she considered an appropriate chair for class. His scar began to tingle. There was nowhere to go, nowhere he could hide as she continued, her normally soft tones rising to be heard over the now silent classroom.

"There is much trouble ahead for you. A deadly illness, an unforgivable mistake…" She took a deep breath and her eyes rolled back into her head. "The one of which we do not speak shall come for you and all who join his enemy in the fight against darkness. He has marked you for a most painful death." As her voice faded on the last word, Trelawney went rigid at the side of Harry's table before falling backwards and collapsing on the floor in a heap of shawls and beads, her eyes wide open but unseeing.

Several students rushed over to her. Lavender was nearly in tears as she reached the woman's side.

"I think she's just unconscious," Lavender said, eyes wide as she looked at her fellow students.

Once more, Harry felt everyone's eyes on him, as if it were his fault their teacher had collapsed in the middle of class. There was a gasp behind him and Harry turned to see Neville shivering as he watched the scene before him, one hand stroking a spot just below his right ear. He turned back to where the professor lay at his feet.

"Maybe someone should get Madam Pomfrey to come up and take a look at her," Harry suggested. A few other students had begun to nod at this when Trelawney suddenly sat up, looking around at the students as if she'd never seen any of them before. Her look of confusion was erased as she stood up and dusted herself off, offering a small smile to the students who asked if she was well.

"There are times when visions from the Beyond overwhelm even those with the power to see and interpret them. There is an abundance of clairvoyant vibrations in the room today. Those of you with the gift of Sight must also be aware." Almost on cue, Parvati and Lavender began nodding quickly.

"I must dismiss all of you from class immediately, so that I may interpret the signs without disturbance," she said, her voice returned to the misty, drawn-out tones.

"So she can get a healing charm for that nasty bump to her head, more like."

Harry acknowledged Ron's comment with a nod, still watching the odd way Professor Trelawney was behaving—odd for her, at least. She was weaving to and fro as she walked across the classroom to her overlarge armchair. She sank down into it with a dramatic flourish of her shawls and settled into the seat with her eyes closed, her arms held straight before her, their shaking causing her bracelets and rings to clank together.

Without opening her eyes, she said, "Students, begin recording your dreams into a journal. This should be done nightly. Read through the beginning chapters of your book for we will begin interpreting the signs from the Beyond at our next meeting." With that, she fell silent, the tinkle of her jewelry the only sound coming from where she sat.

As the students began packing up their belongings, Ron shot Harry a worried look. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Don't know," Harry replied absently. He tore his eyes away from his teacher and groped for his bag under the table. He'd never bothered unpacking it.

"Seriously mental, that woman. First she gives you one of the creepiest predictions I've ever heard." Harry looked up in time to see Ron roll his eyes. "Honestly, it's bad enough for Neville to lose his parents the way he did," Ron motioned behind them and Harry looked over to see Lavender holding Neville's hand firmly as they made their way to the ladder that dropped to the tower landing and steps. "The old bat can't resist bringing You-Know-Who into the conversation at least once a year. Imagine how hard it was for him to hear another student might get his rotten luck. A death sentence courtesy of a dark wizard no one's heard from in years!"

Harry blinked in surprise as he shouldered his bag. Neville's parents had been attacked by Voldemort? At least he wasn't currently attacking anyone. "So, you believe her?"

"Look, I'm not saying she's in her right mind. You know what she's like." Ron cast a glance over to their professor who was weaving slowly from side to side in her chair, jewelry clinking as she swayed. "But she has gotten a few things right over the years. Like when Neville broke his leg trying out for Quidditch second year or when he and Lavender kissed in the middle of the Yule Ball and McGonagall had to practically pull them apart. She just has this way of making most things sound so…"

"Ominous," Harry supplied.

"Right. Makes it hard to believe anything she says. At least you've got one thing going for you," Ron said as they neared the door.

"What's that?"

"When she says someone's in danger, she's only right about half the time. Most of the time, she's only got a decent read on The Boy Who Lived."

Harry tried to smile at Ron's comment, but he couldn't force it. He knew that a prediction of danger for him, even from someone as dubious as Professor Trelawney, had a better than fifty percent chance of being correct. With his sketchy knowledge of the events that had taken place on his way to school yesterday, he knew the odds were much higher on Trelawney being right this time. Especially if she was tuned into anyone who had been a target of Voldemort.


	10. Insight

Surprisingly, Harry found himself doing well in his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Snape. He put it down to all of his practice with Dumbledore's Army. There was also the knowledge that Snape couldn't do any serious damage to him in a classroom full of students, however much he might have been tempted. The class began with Snape directing the students to move into groups and practice defensive spells. Those who showed the most promise were allowed to duel each other until a clear winner from each group had been established. The winners then faced off until one was left.

The class concluded with Harry facing his stepfather in a duel, surprising them both, and the class, by holding his own for the better part of ten minutes while the class looked on. After a sneaky silent spell disarmed him, Harry received congratulations from his classmates on lasting as long as he had, and a suspicious look from Snape as he offered reluctant praise. Harry had walked out of class smiling, glad he hadn't been assigned the three foot essay on effective use of defensive spells his classmates had gotten.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Hermione asked as they walked out of class.

Harry looked over his shoulder to make sure Snape wasn't going to keep him from leaving. "What do you mean?"

"You've never done anything like that before." Her eyes dropped and she appeared to study the books in her hands. "I mean, the change is obvious, Harry."

He stopped in the hall outside the class, smiling absently as a few of his fellow students offered him positive comments on their way out. "What do you mean? I had to defend myself."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not that. You said you didn't want him to notice anything, but you were acting very different from usual. I've never seen you move that way, especially using defensive spells. It was amazing," she said in an awed tone. "I'm sure he noticed."

Harry shrugged and nodded as another classmate passed them. "I couldn't just act like I don't know how to defend myself," he responded as they began walking. "I had to learn the hard way that protecting myself is more important than letting people think I'm defenseless."

Hermione started at this and stopped walking as they got close to the stairs, her eyes showing concern as she looked at Harry. She was quiet for a long moment before she said, "I'm sorry, too." Before he could respond, she added, "It's really hard for me to believe everything you said earlier. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because I don't really have a choice. You really _aren't_ the same Harry I've known for years. If there's any way I can help you," she sighed, "I'm going to try."

"Thank you for that," he said. "Wait, let me get these." As Harry reached for the stack of books she was attempting to balance, Hermione swung her arms out of the way, almost falling over in the process.

"I can handle it, thank you," she said breathlessly.

He smiled and plucked the first three books from the stack while she regained her balance. "Come on, sweetheart." He smiled and put an arm around Hermione as they got onto the stairs. "We've got to make it believable," he whispered.

She didn't respond as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room, but she did consent to lean against him a bit after she turned a corner too quickly and nearly lost her balance again.

"Sometimes I wonder why I take so many classes," she said as they stepped through the portrait hole.

Harry laughed before he could stop himself. "I think we've all wondered that at one point."

Hermione immediately shook off his arm and backed away a step, frowning. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed a finger at his chest. "Look." She stopped and took a deep breath. Harry stepped closer. Hermione continued in a lower voice. "You can pretend to be my boyfriend, but you can't pretend like you know me. That's not a part of the deal."

Harry frowned and put his arm around Hermione again, shuffling the books he was carrying to one side as he spoke in her ear. "Some things may have changed for us, but I do still know you. I know it frustrates you that your parents don't understand anything that goes on at school, except when you get good marks and when you made Prefect. I understand that you've practically lived in the library since first year because you feel like the other students had a head start learning magic and you don't want to get left behind."

With a startled expression, Hermione began to move away. Harry pulled her closer until her side was flush against his. He brushed her hair back before he put his arm around her and spoke again, his breath warming her neck. "And I know you only push yourself that hard because you don't want anyone to look down on you for your blood status, the way you do defensive spells or anything else some people might consider a weakness." Harry surprised himself by continuing.

"You are the smartest witch of our age, and you've mastered spells and potions a lot of adults can't do. You should stop being so hard on yourself. It's not in you to fail. Trust me. You're my best friend," he added. "No one knows you better."

Hermione turned suddenly wide eyes up to him. "You—"

Harry shifted the books in his hands and smiled sheepishly. He was just as shocked as she that he had said all of it, but he knew every word to be true. Perhaps that truth serum from Professor McGonagall was a blessing in disguise. "I'll um…I'll meet you back here in a few minutes. We should eat before we have our next talk."

She nodded and accepted her books from him before turning and walking slowly up the stairs to her dorm.

* * *

"Which of us should go first?" Hermione asked. They had returned to the Room of Requirement immediately after dinner, both eager to get started on what purported to be a long discussion. "I have a feeling what you've been through will be a sight more interesting than what I have to say."

Harry shrugged. "Right now, the only thing that's important is staying safe. Anything you can tell me is more important. My stuff can wait." He sighed. "Actually, I have a lot of questions, mostly about my parents. My dad. I had no idea until you said something this morning that he's…not around anymore."

Hermione leaned back onto the sofa and curled both legs beneath her. "I don't know where to begin with him. There's only so much you've told—this is so strange," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know how I can think of you as a different person if you're not."

"I'm not different. Not really. Not in ways that matter," he said.

"Yes, you are," she countered. "I look at you and I want to see you as the person I care about, but there is a difference."

"You don't care about me?"

"Yes, of course I—" Hermione looked at him crossly. "You know what I mean. This is hard for me."

He nodded. "The sooner I can figure out what happened, the sooner I can get everything back to normal. More or less," he added, realizing nothing about his life at Hogwarts had ever been anyone's idea of normal.

Hermione uttered a short, mirthless laugh. "Honestly, nothing will ever be normal again. You must know that." Pinching the skin between her eyes, she lowered her head and took a deep breath, her face and hand obscured by her hair. "You don't know how strange this is for me," she muttered.

Harry grinned in spite of the grim tone to her voice. "Even more for me, if you can believe it. After last night, I don't think I'll ever be able to look at you the same again. I never thought you'd look at anyone but—" He stopped himself before completing the thought, causing Hermione to look up.

"Anyone but who? Who do you think I fancy?"

He began to shake his head and his grin widened. "No one, don't worry about it. Just start your story."

"No," she began. "I want to know. Who did you expect me to be with when you came here last night?"

He hesitated a moment before blurting, "Ron."

One eyebrow quirked up and Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Ron _Weasley_?" She fell back on the sofa and laughed so hard her whole body shook. "Really? Ron!" she gasped out between breaths, laughing until tears ran down both sides of her face. "How in the world did that happen? We have nothing in common."

Harry shrugged. "You have me in common, I guess. Honestly, the two of you spent more time fighting than anything else when left on your own. But it's obvious there's something there. I just figured you would get together in your own time."

"Oh, so we weren't really a couple?" Hermione asked. She had stopped laughing, but her face was still heavily flushed.

"No, I don't think either of you wanted to admit how you felt just yet. I guess now it'll never happen."

She nodded minutely and pulled her robes around her legs on the sofa. "I guess a lot of things won't happen." She paused. "What do you want to know first? About your Dad."

"Did you ever get to meet him? What was he like?" He sensed before he finished both questions that her answers would disappoint him.

She bit her bottom lip and hugged both legs close. "You were five when he… From what you told me, he had been sick for a while, before, you know." Harry nodded. "You never talked about it much. I always thought it was because it hurt too much to think about him not being here." She was having trouble meeting his eyes now and his own were stinging a bit from held back tears. "Your mum and Professor Snape and your dad were really good friends for years."

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Snape was friends with my dad?"

"Yes, they'd all known each other since they were at Hogwarts together." She frowned, a puzzled expression clouding her features. "What? What's wrong?"

"They hated each other," Harry responded, his thoughts unwillingly drifting to Snape's memory of his father teasing him in front of other students. "I think they may have even fought over my mother. I don't know if Snape and my mum were even friends, especially after she married my dad."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "I guess that all changed when Professor Snape saved your lives."

"Mine?" Harry couldn't help the surprise that laced his voice. "Why would he ever save my life?"

"You-Know-Who."


	11. Truth and Consequences

"You know who I'm talking about, right?"

Harry nodded, not wanting to remind Hermione that he knew a great deal about the world she inhabited. "Voldemort." She flinched at the name. "I still don't understand."

"Years ago, Professor Snape was one of You-Know-Who's followers."

"Still is," Harry interrupted.

Hermione shook her head and continued. "I don't know all of the details, but apparently, he heard that You-Know-Who was going to come after you and your parents."

_The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal._

_ He has marked you for a most painful death._

Harry nodded. "Go on," he said.

"He found a way to get word to Dumbledore and your parents went into hiding. They were using the Fidelius Charm to hide themselves. You know what—?" She continued at Harry's nod. "Their Secret Keeper betrayed them to You-Know-Who. When Snape found out, he contacted your parents and warned them." Harry went pale at this and swayed a little on the sofa. Hermione moved to sit closer to him.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. He would tell Hermione what he knew about Pettigrew later.

"He warned them that Neville's parents were in danger as well." She inhaled sharply as his expression changed. "Harry, are you sure you're all right? You don't look well."

He was feeling increasingly nauseated, but he didn't want to say that. "What happened next?" he whispered. Hermione put her arm around his shoulders before continuing.

"Your parents went to stay with Dumbledore somewhere on the coast and he became their new Secret Keeper. The Longbottoms were supposed to stay there too, but—" She broke off and Harry stared at her, his expression expectant. He knew what was coming, but he needed to hear her say it.

"What did Voldemort do?" Hermione flinched again and Harry frowned. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," he said, repeating the words he'd heard from Dumbledore.

She nodded. "When they, Neville's parents, were leaving to join your parents, V— V—" She sighed. "You-Know-Who found them and killed them. Only it was strange because—"

"Because he'd been trying to kill Neville and his parents were protecting him," Harry supplied. At Hermione's look of astonishment, he continued. "When Voldemort used the Killing Curse, his parents moved to protect him and saved his life. The spell killed both of them, but Neville got away with just a scar. I'd wager it looks a lot like this one," Harry said, lifting his hair to show the lightning bolt shape just above his eyebrow. "Voldemort lost his body in the fight, and most assume he is dead, but there are rumors that he's still around someplace." Harry finished in a monotone voice, a faraway look in his eyes.

"How did you know all of that?"

Harry let his head fall forward and his shoulders slump. He didn't know how long he'd been crying, but it seemed a fitting tribute to the news he'd just heard. He'd been responsible for Neville's parents getting killed. Why had he mentioned them in the note? He had no way of knowing if Death Eaters would've still come after them if his parents hadn't been attacked. Was this fate better than the one he knew they shared before—close supervision in a ward at St. Mungo's? Was it better to have parents who were alive and had no idea who you were, or ones who had died to save you?

"Harry?"

"I did it," he said. He looked over to Hermione and acknowledged her worry with a wan smile. "Do you remember when I told you I went back in time and changed something major?" Harry continued without waiting for her response. "I wrote the note warning my parents. And I told them the Longbottoms were in danger."

"But how? You couldn't have done."

"I was a baby, but I was included in the charm. Protected by it, and able to find the house, even after traveling back through time." Harry swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. He refused to look at Hermione when she clasped his hand in hers. "When I was in the Ministry, I saw the date and knew what I had to do. My parents—they were going to die the next night, to protect me. I couldn't just let that happen. And I knew that Neville's parents—I thought they'd all be better off if they knew what was coming. I sentenced them to death."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione launched herself into his arms, the sounds of her sobs filling the quiet space. "You didn't kill them." She pulled back to look into his eyes. "The darkest wizard our world has ever known was after them, there was nothing more you could've done."

Harry vaguely registered surprise that she wasn't lecturing him about the consequences of changing the past. "I could've left it alone," he said. "I had made peace with what had happened to my parents. As much as anyone could, I guess. I just wanted so badly to see them, especially my mother. She's so much more beautiful than in pictures." His voice had dropped to a whisper and Hermione hugged him tight again. "So Snape took credit for my note?"

"Yes, I suppose that is what happened." She cleared her throat. "According to the Daily Prophet, Dumbledore had recruited him to work as a spy against You-Know-Who over a year before the planned attack. When he—when the note saved your parents, Dumbledore told everyone he was responsible and was completely reformed from helping You-Know-Who."

Now Harry understood Ron's hero comment from earlier.

"Then he and your parents became good friends. After your dad…Professor Snape was there for you and your mother, and—"  
"I don't need to hear any more." Harry wanted to scream his frustration, but didn't think he had the strength. "My mother's married to that bastard and it's all my fault."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Harry with his head on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione rubbed his back until his tears were gone and he was left with nothing but a cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I need to tell you everything," he said, sitting up.

"No, not if it's too much. You can wait until tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "I need to do this now. Unless you want me to stop." He could practically see Hermione about to start in how they both needed to begin their homework assignments and get some rest, but she didn't raise an objection as he began his story. When he finished telling her the major events of his first five years at Hogwarts, she sat back on the sofa, her face uncharacteristically pale.

"Cedric had been killed? And Professor Quirrell? A Ministry employee was torturing students and _no one did anything_?" Hermione's eyes widened as Harry showed her the back of his hand, on which _I must not tell lies_ stood out in deep scarlet beneath the skin. She held his hand in both of hers and traced the words that had been written in his blood so many times they left a permanent mark. She had begun crying again, but didn't move to brush the tears away as she looked at the evidence of Harry's torture, the vivid reality she had wanted so badly to believe was just a story.

"I feel horrible for putting Neville in the position I was in. There was always this attention, this pressure on me. And to find out Voldemort came after me because he thought I would have some power to hurt him—I don't know if I would've left my parents the note if I'd known things would turn out this way. A lot of people's lives have been spared, but Neville's parents…" He caught Hermione's eyes. "I never wanted anything to happen to them, you have to believe that."

"I believe you, Harry. I know you wouldn't have wanted that to happen. But a lot of people are better off because of what you did."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked. He snatched his hand from her grasp and ran both through his unruly hair. He rested his head in his hands. "I wonder if Neville would feel grateful to me if he knew the truth. If he knew that instead of dying that night, his parents would've been tortured by Barty Crouch, Jr. and the Lestranges."

"Lestrange? As in, our Potions professor?!"

"Yeah. I thought I said that earlier."

"You just said a couple of Death Eaters were going to use the Cruciatus Curse on them," Hermione responded. "Now that I think about it, she started teaching here not long after Professor Snape."

"Being a reformed Death Eater has its benefits. As far as I know, she wasn't caught hurting anyone before Neville's parents. I guess after what happened with Snape pretending to save my parents, she got to pretend like she'd never supported Voldemort at all. Now she's here. And no one will ever know the truth."

"You said Lucius Malfoy was also in You-Know-Who's inner circle?"

Harry nodded. "He gave Ginny Weasley the diary that possessed her. He was in the graveyard the night Cedric was killed." Harry smiled faintly. "He was the only person keeping Bellatrix from hurting me that night at the Ministry. He's in the thick of everything. Why?"

She hesitated and Harry sent her a penetrating look. "The Lestranges and the Malfoys have been really close to Professor Snape and your mum for ages. You and Draco have spent the last seven or eight years practically like brothers. That's something you'll have to be careful of," she said, touching Harry's wrist gently. "He'll still expect you to be close to him, to confide in him. Sometimes you guys spend so much time together, I practically have to force you to study."

"Sounds like me and Ron," Harry said, giving her a genuine smile. "I think I can avoid being close to Draco by telling him I want to spend more time alone with you. Think he'll buy that?"

"We won't give him a choice," Hermione responded promptly. "There's something else. Your mum and Professor Snape spent a lot of time arguing over the summer. First, he objected to having me come spend a few weeks over the summer with your family. Your mum was okay with it, but he thought it would provide us with too much temptation," she said, blushing. "We've both gotten really good at sound muffling charms. We settled for writing letters almost every day."

Harry smiled at her embarrassment and motioned for her to continue.

"Then, they argued about other stuff. You kept telling me it was fine, but I knew there was more to it than that. You were suspicious that Professor Snape was hiding something. You were trying to figure out what was going on when your mum suddenly announced you were all moving out."

"She left him?"

"Don't sound so sad about it," Hermione said, grinning at Harry's hopeful question. "Madam Bagshot, one of your neighbors, had a really nasty fall down the stairs. She tried to repair her injuries herself and ended up in worse condition than when she'd started. She was examined and it was determined that she'd either gotten a nasty bump on the head or, well, she's not fully there anymore. And because of her age, it's going to take a lot longer for her to heal than it would you or I. When the Healers at St. Mungo's refused to release her to recover on her own, your mum volunteered to stay at her home with you and Raven and supervise her. Your own house isn't that far away, but your mum insisted that living with her was the best way to make sure she was okay, and she didn't want Madam Bagshot to have to leave her home.

"Your mum is there all day, making sure she takes her healing potions and monitoring her to see if she's really losing her senses or if that was just a part of the injuries she suffered. Professor Snape was really unhappy about all three of you moving out, but your mum refused to come back, saying that Madam Bagshot was an old family friend and needed her. She said you guys are her only family. Madam Bagshot was one of the people looking in on your mum and dad when they went into hiding.

"The move out is supposed to be temporary," Hermione said, "but you'd been trying to get her to make it permanent. You even offered to buy a house in another country, if it would keep the two of them apart. She kept telling you not to interfere, but you were livid that she wouldn't just leave him."

Hermione looked down at her hands and began fidgeting, obviously nervous about getting into the next part of the story. "The last letter you sent me was really angry. You were determined to prove to your mother something was wrong with Professor Snape and that she had to leave. You had planned to go to the house once he'd returned to Hogwarts, before you had to catch the train for school, on the pretense that you'd left something you'd need when you were here. You wanted some proof that he was doing something wrong."

"The parchment."

"I'm sorry?"

"Draco said something to me this morning about getting a parchment without getting caught. Maybe I should ask him what was going on."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Harry."

Though she didn't see him the same way, her lecturing tone hadn't changed a bit, Harry noted.

"If you start asking him questions like you don't remember anything, Draco will catch on that something about you isn't the same. I mean, you don't plan on telling him what you did with the Time-Turner, do you?"

"No, of course not." Truthfully, Harry had no idea what he was going to do, but he couldn't sit around and do nothing. "Whatever was on that parchment, I either stole it from Snape or he caught me trying. That's probably why I was attacked before I could get on the train yesterday. Whatever it is, it was important enough that he didn't want me telling my mother about it."

"You'll have to be careful. This could get really dangerous."

"Hasn't it already? I don't know what kind of injuries landed me in the hospital, but it had to have been serious for Professor McGonagall to slip me a truth serum and interrogate me."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell her what's going on?"

"More than I already have? No. She'll do something immediately if she thinks any of the students are in danger." He began shaking his head frantically. "No, it'll never work. If she gets any hint that he's behind the attack, she could tell my mother and then she'd be in danger too. I can't let that happen. But if she really did leave…did you say I offered to buy her a _house_? With what?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Your dad left you everything in his will. He—I got the impression Professor Snape was never happy your mother didn't want to combine your vault with his when they got married. I guess he got over that. I heard him say once that she didn't need her first husband's money when he could take care of her. On your last birthday, she gave you the key from Gringotts. Told you to be responsible with it." Hermione smiled. "The first thing you did was offer to buy her a house in America. Or anywhere he couldn't find her. You said it was your only birthday wish. You told her she could empty the vault if it meant she'd be happy someplace else."

Harry nodded. He had never really paid attention to the amount of freedom his inheritance had afforded him, but now he knew what it really meant. A life without Snape for his mother if he could only convince her it was safer to leave.

"So, he knows I want her to leave?"

Hermione smiled faintly. "You haven't exactly been shy about your feelings. And Raven, she idolizes you. She wants the same thing you do."

"Did I—I didn't make her hate him?"

"No, Harry. But, the two of you are really close. The more your mum and Professor Snape fought, the more it upset both of you, Raven especially. She's too young to really understand, but she wanted them to be separate. Just to stop the fighting." Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "She loves you, but you didn't turn her against her father. That was his doing. Actually, if her parents were getting along, she probably wouldn't have a problem with them staying together."

Harry frowned deeply.

"Obviously, you would not feel the same way." He didn't respond and she pulled his hand close to her again, grasping it firmly. "I'm sorry all of this has fallen on you. I can't imagine what kind of pressure you must be feeling."

He nodded. "I just want my family to be safe," he said, unconsciously including the sister he'd never met. "It's getting pretty late, we should probably be headed back to our rooms."

"But, I thought you wanted to talk about us." She squeezed his hand and offered a small smile. "I think the more you know about our relationship, the easier it'll be for me to help you find out what happened yesterday."

Harry began to object, sure that getting Hermione further involved would only put her in danger, but stopped at her pleading look. He recognized the determination on her face, the very look that meant she was already involved and would not be turned away. He welcomed her help, even if he knew what it might cost her to give it.

"This won't take too long, Harry. The main thing you need to remember is that we became friends pretty early on our first year at school. Actually, you were my only friend for a while." She smiled shyly. "We became close fairly quickly. We were only friends for a long time, but third year, something happened. I don't know how, but we just started looking at each other differently. After I kissed you the first time—"

"You kissed me?"

Hermione blushed and her smile mirrored Harry's grin. "I don't know what came over me." She squeezed his hand again and held his eyes for a long moment in silence. "No, I know exactly what came over me. I still…" She broke their eye contact and looked down at their hands in her lap. "After that, we were inseparable. I think Draco was a little resentful of our closeness. Maybe he thought you'd always want to be one of his little pack."

"He still has Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson hanging all over him?"

She nodded. "And a few others. Eventually, he got over not being your number one friend and he and I sort of get along. Your mum liked the two of us together from the beginning. Snape didn't mind so much." Hermione blushed a little darker. "At least, not until Professor McGonagall caught us kissing in your dorm last term when we were supposed to be in class."

"You skipped a class for me?" Harry couldn't help the laugh that was coloring his voice. Hermione was practically turning purple with each part of the confession and her voice was getting softer and softer as the embarrassing story unfolded further.

"She um…she told Professor Snape we were lucky she hadn't walked in later. She didn't know what we would've gotten up to. He kept us from getting punished, but he kind of freaked out every time we were alone the rest of the term. He tried separating us. We found a way to get around it."

At that, Harry laughed out loud, followed soon by Hermione's nervous giggle. "It's no wonder he wouldn't let you stay during the summer. I'm surprised my mother didn't have a problem with it."

"She trusts us to be responsible. Besides, we hadn't actually decided to do anything more serious until a couple of weeks ago. We both agreed that we felt the same, that it wasn't gong to be just—that it wasn't just sex for us." She squeezed his hand hard. "That's why I was so upset when you didn't want to be alone with me last night. Not because I thought we were going to do something, but the way you looked at me when I kissed you. I thought you had changed your mind, that you didn't love me anymore. When you told me earlier that you're not the same person, I wanted to kill you. Before you explained, I mean."

"No, I understand," he said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you lost what we had. It sounds like something pretty special."

"It is. Was." Hermione dropped his hand then and stood from the sofa, stretching as she turned away from him. "It's a good thing we're Prefects or we'd be in serious trouble for staying out after hours."

Harry didn't say anything about her abrupt change of subject. After what she'd just shared, he figured she didn't need any further comments from him about the change in their relationship. Besides, she was right. They had to get back to the rest of the world.

Upon seeing Harry stand, Hermione asked, "What's the plan for tomorrow?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp a bit before answering. "I think I need to go through everything in my trunk, see if there's any clues to what I was searching for at the house. If I have whatever Snape had wanted hidden, maybe there's a clue as to what happened to me."

"And then what?"

"I guess I should consider telling Professor McGonagall more. I just don't know if she might be protecting him or something. After sitting through a year of class with a Death Eater disguised with Polyjuice Potion and another with a professor who had Voldemort attached to the back of his head, I've learned that Hogwarts staff isn't always safe."

"If you're afraid she might be under the Imperius Curse, you can always try _Finite Incantatem_. I think it'll stop any spell she might be under. Maybe we should do it together, just in case. To be sure it's strong enough to work. We can do it tomorrow."

"And I'll know she's not being controlled by Snape or anyone else?" Harry asked.

She nodded. "We can be pretty sure. I'll have to go to the library and see if there are any stronger counter spells, but that should do the trick on most things."

"Will it work on Veritaserum? I'm not sure if that's exactly what she gave me, but it's worth a try, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. I think you'll need an antidote for that. But it should work it's way through your system soon enough, if it hasn't already."

"It hasn't. I just don't want to talk to Snape until I know for sure I can lie to him. There's no telling what could happen if he questions me again. I had a hard enough time when I didn't know what was going on. Now that I do…"

Hermione's arms around him again and her voice in his ear were a comfort Harry could hardly quantify. "I won't let anything happen to you," she said. "No matter what, I'll do anything to keep you safe."

* * *

_Author's note: To find out the full story of what happened the day Harry and Hermione skipped class, read "Developing a Reputation."_


	12. Trust Issues

Harry arrived at Transfiguration early, just barely conscious that he didn't want to draw extra attention to himself by being late again. After the night he'd had—nightmares about Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth, and the revelations courtesy of Hermione—he was ready for a stress-free day. Though, after the night before, he knew he could look forward to spending a lot of time catching up on homework with Hermione. Threats or not, she wouldn't let her grades fall one iota if she could help it. At least Charms class had been a breeze.

"Now I know you're not the same person."

Harry turned in time to catch Hermione as she struggled towards the desk with several thick, dusty books stacked high. He grabbed the books from her hands as she maneuvered to her seat and placed them on the desk.

"Why is that?"

"You never get to this class before me. The whole game will be over if you suddenly become a model student." Hermione smiled at him briefly before turning away and slipping her bag from her shoulder. She began digging through it, her fingers fumbling as she pulled out her textbook, quill and parchment for class.

Harry smiled faintly as he watched her. He'd been afraid things would be awkward between them after the night they'd had, but she didn't seem to be acting differently towards him, even after knowing he'd only kissed her back to avoid being discovered his first night at Hogwarts. Harry was sure she wasn't entirely over that, in spite of her assurances that she would help him, but as long as she was willing to speak to him, he would worry about making it up to her later.

"I don't think I have to worry about that," Harry said. "I'll still be late to class and sleep at my desk as much as you'll let me." Hermione smiled and shook her head as she took her seat next to him. "Where'd you disappear to after Charms? You didn't come find me in the common room during the break," Harry said.

"I found a few things for you in the library this morning," she said. "I spent a lot of time thinking about your problem and I think we're going to have to do some reading on time travel and magical devices to find out what might have gone wrong with the Time-Turner. Maybe you broke some magical law we don't know about. If it's really damaged, there might be a spell to repair it, but we might have to test it to find out for sure. It's hard to tell. There's not much information on either subject." She motioned to the top two of the four volumes he'd put on the desk

Harry's expression was dubious at that statement. The books she'd indicated could easily take weeks to read.

"I went back during the break and found two more on remedies and counter curses so we can be sure you're safe when talking to professors. I've already found the antidotes to the most commonly used poisons. I was just about to start taking notes when I realized class was going to start."

"Wow," Harry said, taking in the books she'd found. _Never does anything halfway, does she?_ "After all this, did you get any sleep at all?"

"Some," she said. "I kept dreaming that I overslept and waking up." She offered a soft half-smile. "I thought Parvati was going to put me out after the third time. I ended up at the library the minute it opened and stayed through breakfast. How about you?"

"She didn't bother me once," he said, earning himself a light slap on the shoulder. "I slept all right."

"You had nightmares," she said in a soft voice. Hermione hadn't bothered phrasing it into a question, being able to read the answer in his eyes. She touched his wrist where it lay on the table.

"Nothing I'm not used to. I caught up a little during the morning break," he said. Harry was about to add something else when a shadow fell across the desk. He looked up to find Professor McGonagall regarding him from behind her glasses. She turned briefly to acknowledge Hermione with a nod before returning her gaze to Harry.

"After your late night, may I assume Miss Granger has been brought up to speed?"

Harry nodded, wondering if their talk had gotten them both into trouble.

"I shall expect you both to attend to Prefect duties the next time you are out of your House at night. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded and Hermione responded with, "Yes, Professor."

McGonagall reached into her robes and pulled out a corked glass vial of clear blue liquid. She held it out to Harry. "The antidote to the Veritaserum you ingested yesterday." Harry took the vial from her hand, his expression betraying his surprise. "I trust that you will continue to be honest with me even when you are not being forced." Harry nodded, still shocked that she would give him the potion. "May I meet with you and Miss Granger before you go to lunch?"

When Harry didn't speak, Hermione responded in the affirmative for both of them. With another curt nod, Professor McGonagall turned to address Professor Burbage, who had just come into the class.

"We need to do it now, Harry." Hermione whispered, pulling her wand from her pocket. The minute Harry realized what she meant, he pulled out his wand and they whispered the incantation together, twice, effectively removing any doubt Harry had about Professor McGonagall's trustworthiness. He reached for the vial on the desk. Before he could remove the cork, Hermione grabbed his wrist and jerked it frantically back to the table.

"No! What are you doing?" Hermione looked around, but no one had heard her exclamation.

"I'm taking the antidote."

"Harry, you don't know if it's safe. I'll look up the real antidote and make it for you later."

He didn't know why Hermione was making a big deal out of it. Even though Professor McGonagall's questioning had been a little unorthodox, Harry knew it was only because she'd wanted to make sure the other students were safe. He'd never truly believed she was trying to poison him. She certainly wouldn't be trying to do it now. He decided on the spot not to tell Hermione this. She would only lecture that he was being careless. "What if takes a long time or is really difficult?" he asked.

She pulled the vial from his hand and slipped it into her pocket. "Then you'll just have to keep your thoughts to yourself until the smartest witch of our age figures something out. Here's your chance now," she said as Professor McGonagall left the room and Professor Burbage began the first Transfiguration lesson of the year.

* * *

"I've done it, Albus," Professor McGonagall stated. "Now do you wish to tell me what this is about?"

The portrait looked down at her, remaining still for a moment. "If you want his confidence, you'll have to give him incentive to trust you."

Her lips pursed into a thin line. She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to pace as she had the day before. This situation was difficult enough without Dumbledore keeping her in the dark about the Ministry's plans. Or, rather, his plans.

"I don't suppose you will tell me how to do that," she began. "It hasn't been that long since you were Headmaster, Albus, but perhaps it has slipped your memory how difficult things can be when a student feels authority figures cannot be trusted to protect them. Not only can deceit rise to dangerous levels, people can get hurt. I don't have to remind you that a student died because no one stepped forward with what they knew in time."

Dumbledore cleared his throat before she could continue. "I am aware of the frail nature of the student-teacher bond." He closed his eyes and said, "_You_ are well aware that I'll never forgive myself for not urging Professor Dippet to take a stronger interest in Tom Riddle. It was just a suspicion, but if we had all been more careful—"

"No one is blaming you for what he became," she said, interrupting. "All of the students, myself included, felt there was no real harm in the boy, regardless of the incidents that seemed to happen around his friends. There was never proof. He never got into trouble himself. Never showed the slightest inclination that he would—" She stopped herself from saying, _become a murderer_. "Tom Riddle was meant to go dark and the staff of Hogwarts could have done little to stop it. It's not as if we teach Dark Arts."

"That may be true," he responded. Dumbledore sighed. "If only one of us had mentored him. Stopped or at least guided his energies into another direction."

"Albus, there is no way of knowing if that would've made a difference. It is useless to speculate." She paused and eyed the man in the portrait. "Is that how you propose I deal with the Potter situation? Mentor him? Befriend him? Wasn't it you who always said personal involvement with students would lead to no good end? 'We are only to interfere in their lives inasmuch as propriety and wisdom permits,'" she quoted, her voice rising higher as she spoke.

Her finger jabbed the air in the direction of the portrait. "Those were your words. We can get information from him without going to such lengths." McGonagall hated the cynical tone she'd adopted as of late, but she hated even more to sit idle and bide her time when a student, or many, could be in danger. How Dumbledore could be patient enough to suggest a passive approach, she would never understand. Lives could be at stake. He knew that as well as she.

"I don't believe _involvement_ will be necessary so much as an appropriate amount of tact."

McGonagall closed her eyes. "Albus?" Her weary tone communicated all that she wasn't articulating.

"What I am suggesting is that you offer to help Mr. Potter investigate. Offer your absolute discretion if he will identify the professor in question and I will provide the Ministry's help and protection should he request it. I can have Aurors in the school to guard him if either of you deem it necessary." At McGonagall's silence, he continued. "This may not seem the best solution to you, but it is the best the Ministry and Hogwarts can do without arousing suspicion. If Mr. Potter is correct, the professor we are investigating is a criminal of incredible skill with a strong disregard for human life."

"You are convinced a professor may be involved?" she asked. Dumbledore frowned as she continued. "We have no way to know that for sure."

"After all you saw yesterday, you are still unconvinced?"

"You're sure Potter can be trusted? Did we not just discuss another student who managed to convince everyone of his innocence for years? I want to be more cautious. We cannot take the boy's word without thinking. There is still the chance that he answered my questions truthfully and is still a threat himself. If not to the students, to someone." She paused.

"There is another boy in the hospital who seems to be the same person, but you have conveniently forgotten him for now. And we still do not know the nature of his scar. How do we know it wasn't inflicted by someone who wished to control him? The Imperius Curse may not leave a mark, but you agree that something did? Could it be a mark from an attempt to clone him somehow? Someone could've programmed him to believe what he is doing here is not harmful or—or—"

She stopped, realizing she was grasping at straws. Though McGonagall had no proof, she couldn't shake the feeling that a great deal more was going on. Harry may have told her he wasn't there to hurt other students, but he did not tell her everything he could have, he had admitted as much. She hated to go against the Ministry with this, but if this boy was going to hurt someone, giving him the antidote and the protection of the Ministry was a mistake they wouldn't be able to take back or explain to grieving parents if it came to that.

"I trust Harry, Minerva. The other Harry is under my protection and will be dealt with in good time. If you wish, I will come to Hogwarts and meet with Harry myself before the end of the week. I'll question him about the scar if you would like, but know I believe he is not a threat."

McGonagall refrained from reminding Dumbledore that he'd trusted Peter Pettigrew as well. That mistake had nearly cost three lives. His judgment was not infallible.

"I hope you will come to trust my opinion on this in time," Dumbledore continued. "Harry is the only hope we have of finding this person at present. Even if this professor is not guilty, he may lead us to the person we seek. We have to find the attacker. We will not be able to remove the curse without that person's cooperation, or forcibly extracting his or her memories."

"I thought that was impossible," McGonagall said. "The Memory Extraction Charm requires someone to allow open access to one of the more sensitive parts of the brain. If it is forced—"

"It could cause irreparable brain damage," he finished for her. "If he killed James Potter, and who knows how many others, I don't feel that price is too high to pay."

McGonagall went pale at his words. "Albus, you can't be serious. James was a wonderful man, but the possibility of this person being the same one who gave him that illness is staggeringly small. You are willing to risk a possibly innocent man's life on it?"

"I am not willing to watch Harry suffer the same fate as his father. You do remember the organ failure, the seizures, the screams as parts of his body began to rot while he still lived on?"

McGonagall glared at the portrait as tears began to well in her eyes. "Albus, I remember it. All of it," she said, voice filled with emotion.

"Do you? The stress Lily was under? The miscarriage she suffered? Her expression when she told us that Harry kept asking when his father would be coming home from the hospital?"

"Stop it, Albus! Enough!"

Tears were flowing freely now, but the harsh scream from the now very shaken Headmistress was enough to keep Dumbledore from continuing. He'd made his point. The possible suffering of a murderer had nowhere near the gravity of the suffering James Potter had endured at this person's hands and Harry himself would experience if they could not produce a cure soon. One life in exchange for another.

McGonagall removed her glasses and wiped at her eyes with the edges of her robe sleeve. After a few moments of weeping, she calmed herself with a spell that she knew would never fully erase the memories of James screaming inarticulate words in place of his wife's name as he died slowly, a Silencing Charm preventing his voice from ringing out over the whole of St. Mungo's fourth floor.

"I will do as you asked," she said finally. _As if I have a choice._ "I will get Harry to cooperate with us and contact you later. Just…just don't tell me what you have done to this criminal once he is found. I'd rather not find out just how dark you can go Albus."

"Do not speak as if I am suddenly evil, Minerva. There is darkness in all of us. What I am suggesting is within the law and for the greater good."

She nodded silently, not looking at the portrait of her mentor and friend before he took leave. _Whatever you must tell yourself to sleep at night, Albus. Whatever it takes._


	13. Evasive Action

"Help? From the Ministry?" Harry glanced at Hermione as he repeated McGonagall's words. His confusion was mirrored on her face.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "The Minister feels it is important to find proof of this person's wrongdoings so things may be returned to their rightful order." She stared at Harry over her glasses. He blinked rapidly and looked away, suddenly sure she could read the guilt in his eyes.

Professor McGonagall drummed her fingers on the top of her desk, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Minister Dumbledore may also be available to meet with you later this week. He too found it interesting that you were seeking him out instead of boarding the train to school."

Hermione's fingers clenched around Harry's in support. Somehow, he'd known it would come back to King's Cross Station. He still had no way of proving to the Ministry or anyone else that he hadn't been responsible for the attack and he was sure he was no closer to convincing Professor McGonagall that he wouldn't be a threat to the school. In spite of her offer of help, he wasn't fooling himself that she was any closer to believing him than she had been when he'd left her office the day before.

The only difference was that Dumbledore had gotten involved. He noticed that the portrait behind McGonagall's desk wasn't moving, the normally bright, penetrating eyes still as Harry stared at it. It _was_ different, he knew that now. Harry silently thanked the older wizard for interfering in what he knew could've been a one-way trip to Azkaban. He looked at Hermione. At least he didn't have to handle any of this alone.

"What do you think?" he asked Hermione. Before she could respond, McGonagall cut her off.

"I think you'd better consider this a definite plan rather than an offer, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, her cheeks creasing around a deep frown. "I'm afraid you have very few alternatives besides cooperation with us. I don't have to tell you what one alternative may be."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"She's right, Harry." He turned to Hermione. "There isn't a better alternative than working with the Ministry. At least you know he'll—" Hermione stopped and looked at the Headmistress. "I mean—"

"I know the Ministry means well," Harry started, "but if he sees anyone around me to protect me, I'm sure that would do more harm than good. If I don't act natural, he might try to hurt me again. I'm almost positive of it."

McGonagall smiled. "A professor? On school grounds? I had trouble enough believing your story yesterday without any proof. But now that you no longer have to tell the truth…"

"He hasn't taken the antidote yet," Hermione said quietly, squeezing Harry's fingers again.

Their Headmistress raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Is that right?" She studied the two students in front of her desk for a long moment, arms crossed in front of her chest. "_You_ didn't feel you could trust _me_?"

Closing his eyes, Harry said slowly, "You don't understand. I can't trust anyone." He opened his eyes again. "Except Hermione."

"Mr. Potter, you must—" McGonagall began at the same time Hermione said, "Harry, we need the help."

His eyes flitted back and forth between the two of them. He nodded before either could continue what they'd been about to say; both were on the same track anyway. "Professor, we'll try to give you as much information as we can to prove his guilt, but you can't ask me to identify him just yet."

That statement was met with a short, disbelieving laugh. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, I can get whatever information I like. I am doing you the courtesy of asking at this juncture. See that I don't regret this approach at a later time." McGonagall's voice was undoubtedly cold, but her eyes were unreadable as she ended the brief meeting.

Harry was taken aback at her sudden abrupt manner, but nodded as he and Hermione stood. "I'll do my best to get information to you. Would you like me to meet you?"

"A parchment with your findings will suffice," McGonagall responded. "If you do find that you need protection from the Ministry, then you have my permission to visit this office." She leaned one hand on the desk and caught Harry's eye. "But know that I will not get the Ministry further involved and disrupt this school unless you are willing to give that professor's name. We cannot proceed further without it. Trust will have to be given both ways, Mr. Potter. Or I will take whatever action I deem necessary."

Harry nodded and exited the office with Hermione, thoughts of how he could request help with the Time-Turner and not give the Ministry cause to arrest him at the same time swirling around his head until he knew he had to give up the entire subterfuge as a lost cause.

* * *

Seconds after Hermione sat on the stone bench, Harry lay down beside her, his feet dangling off the side as he reclined beneath the tree. They'd hurried through lunch so they could go outside and talk without threat of being overheard, not that Harry felt much like talking. He had picked at his food, a new worry that he would end up in Azkaban making his stomach churn so much he had resorted to turning away from the table full of food as Hermione hurriedly finished her lunch. By the time she'd picked up her bag, it was taking everything in him to fight off the dizziness and the impending headache he knew would disrupt his entire afternoon. Now, with the cool stone of the bench against his neck and fresh air blowing over his flushed face, he calmed a bit. Harry took several deep breaths in succession before opening his eyes to find Hermione watching him, worry clouding her gaze.

"I'm going to be fine," he said. "You don't have to worry."

She bit the corner of her bottom lip and sighed. "I'm never going to stop worrying, Harry. Professor McGonagall—I've never seen her so angry. I don't think this whole Ministry idea was what she wanted at all."

"I know," Harry responded. "She was upset with me yesterday as well, but I thought it was because she thought I was dangerous. She could've had me arrested if she was still worried, but she didn't." He closed his eyes again. "I thought when she offered me the antidote this morning, she was starting to trust me."

"Maybe Dumbledore forced her to," Hermione suggested. "If that's the case, you should still be careful around her. How do we know that vial even has a real antidote?"

"I'm sure it was. She acted like I might have been lying because I'd already taken it. Which reminds me, I'm sure you can give it back to me now."

Hermione sucked air in through her teeth impatiently and Harry opened his eyes to take in her frustrated expression. "I'll give it back to you when I'm sure it's safe and no sooner." Harry began to sit up, the beginning of an argument on his lips. "Draco!" Before Harry could ask what she meant, she scooted closer to him on the bench and forced him back down, his head now resting in her lap. Harry turned to see the Slytherin making his way alone across the courtyard in long strides.

"Wonderful," Harry said. "How do I avoid him again? Be alone with you?"

"Play along." With that, Hermione placed one hand on Harry's chest and the other on the back of his head, running her fingers through the soft strands. Draco stepped up to them a few seconds later.

"Hermione." He nodded.

She offered a small smile. "Draco. Getting off to a good start?"

"Not as well as you, I'm sure. Already gotten twenty extra points for your House, I heard."

She shrugged, one hand still playing with Harry's hair. She had never liked small-talk with Harry's best friend, liked it even less after hearing a few of Harry's stories about Draco and his friends teasing her for five years. It was in another life, true, but his personality now wasn't so far from the Draco this Harry was used to. He and his gang just directed their childish behavior towards younger students and those in their year who weren't Harry's friends. Hermione smiled suddenly as a thought occurred to her. She would be willing to pay to see a teacher turn him into a ferret.

When Hermione didn't say anything else and Harry didn't open his eyes or speak up, Draco asked, "Do you mind if um…if I talk to Harry alone?"

"I can't," Harry said.

"He isn't feeling well," Hermione put in, stroking his hair slowly as she looked down at his face. "I could barely get him to eat, but I think the fresh air will make him feel better." She caught Draco's eye and smiled, an idea forming. "But if you'd like to stay and talk, I'm sure it wouldn't tax him too much. He'll probably be heading up to his room for a nap soon anyway. Unless it can wait?"

Draco was surprised by Hermione's pushiness, and didn't say anything as he waited for Harry to overrule her. When he said nothing, Draco finally responded. "Harry, I had hoped we could finish what we'd started talking about before breakfast yesterday."

"Professor Snape's parchment?" Hermione supplied before Harry could respond.

At Draco's silence, Harry said, "You can talk in front of her."

"I…well, I can't say I'm not surprised." Draco dropped his bag to the ground and lowered himself to sit on it, close enough to the bench that Harry could smell the cologne he'd practically bathed in that morning. "I thought you didn't want to tell Hermione anything because everyone who knows might be in danger."

"I'd trust Hermione with my life," Harry said simply. He was glad he hadn't taken the antidote now. He wanted her to know he was telling the truth when he made statements like that. He had to give someone his complete trust and it certainly wasn't going to be the blonde boy sitting before him, struggling over what to say.

"I suppose it's good you've got another person to confide in. As long as you feel she can be relied on."

Harry resisted the temptation to open his eyes again and fix Draco with his best glare. The lofty tone to his voice hadn't gone unnoticed, if Hermione flexing her hand into a fist briefly was any indication, but there was nothing Harry could do about the subtle insults to her right now. He'd find a way to fix Draco later.

"Is there something specific you wanted to talk about, Draco? Hermione's right, I don't feel well."

Draco cleared his throat. "I—well, fine. How much have you told her?"

Hermione's fist clenched in Harry's hair again and he gasped. Draco had spoken as if she weren't there again and if he hadn't been laying across her lap, Harry was sure she would've pulled out her wand and hexed him just to prove she was worthy of his respect. Not that she needed to prove it to him. Harry took a deep breath.

"Draco, I've told her as much as I could of everything before this past weekend," Harry said in a tired voice. "If you feel she needs to know more details to follow the conversation, say it. To her."

"Fine," he said, petulance coloring his voice as he raised his eyes to Hermione.

She continued stroking Harry's hair, it was the only thing keeping her calm enough to not say what she was really thinking to Draco.

"You're aware of what's been going on between Professor Snape and Harry's mother, I assume." Draco continued after Hermione's nod. "At my house a couple of weeks ago, we overheard my father telling Professor Snape to keep all of the documents safe from prying eyes, especially the Key. There have been too many questions. Professor Snape said he would lock up the parchment in his vault once Hogwarts letters had gone out and the Magical Law Enforcement inspectors stopped checking wizards going into Gringotts. He figured there would be too many people in and out of the bank for the Ministry to keep someone at the door. That right so far, Harry?"

Hermione said, "Yes" before Harry could respond.

"My father convinced him to wait a little longer, to be sure the Ministry wouldn't be monitoring deposits around the same time. Do I really need to repeat all of this if you've already heard it?"

"Yes," Harry and Hermione said at the same time. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we haven't forgotten anything," Harry added.

"After realizing that the document could be valuable, Harry was supposed to sneak into the office at his house, find the parchment, and break any charm on it before he gave it to his mother." Draco paused. "I really just wanted to know what my father was up to. They've been going over those papers for weeks and he won't tell my mother anything."

At this, Harry risked a sideways look at Draco. The boy looked and sounded worried. Perhaps this Draco was a little smarter than the one he'd left behind. He didn't come off as excited or boastful about what his father could be capable of. Nor was he particularly condemning.

"You did get the parchment?" Draco asked, his voice soft.

"We haven't been able to remove the protections on it yet," Hermione began, "but I told Harry I'd get it done this weekend. I'm researching counter spells. Can you hold off asking about it till then?"

Draco looked at Harry for a confirmation of this, but he just lay still as Hermione continued to stroke his hair. After a long pause, he said, "Fine. I'll get back to you, both of you, Sunday."

"See you then," Harry said as Draco stood and brushed off the bottom of his robes. Hermione said nothing as he picked up his books and walked away, waiting until he had gone back into the building before she stopped touching Harry's hair and began drumming her fingers across his chest in agitation.

"Go on. Say it. I know you're dying to."

"Don't trust him, Harry. He's not worth risking your life."

No lectures. No intrusive questions. Just the straight truth from the girl who knew him best. Harry was starting to really like this Hermione.

He sat up from the bench and stretched. "Does that answer enough questions about this parchment I was supposed to go after?"

Hermione nodded, lost in thought. "I've got to send something from the Owlery. It's a long shot, but I think I may know what the parchment is. Maybe. MLE inspectors looking for it," she mumbled. She turned to focus on Harry. "If you have it in your trunk, bring it with you to the Room of Requirement tonight and we'll try to remove the protections. If I'm right, we could be onto something much bigger than you realize."

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Harry found himself smiling as he stood. "When are you not right, Hermione?"

Surprised at his comment, she smiled back. "I'm sure it'll happen one day." Reaching down for her bag, she said, "So, I'll meet you at dinner?"

"What about Herbology? Don't tell me your grades were so high they refuse to let you take it anymore."

She laughed and a blush suffused her cheeks. "I wish. I was actually going to skip so I could go through those books from the library. You've got them under your bed?"

He nodded. "We could look at them before class. It shouldn't take the next hour for you to send one letter. Skipping class the first day of an O.W.L. year? I'm starting to wonder if I've been a bad influence on you all these years."

Hermione shrugged. "With all the running around I did third year, I passed out a couple of times." Harry stopped walking and stared at her. "I'm fine," she assured him. "But any time I don't feel well, I tell Madam Pomfrey and she informs my teachers that I can't come to class because my 'delicate constitution' is acting up again." She grinned. "She refuses to give me potions to force me to stay awake. Says that was what enabled me third year. Came in handy the week before exams when I needed to catch up on sleep."

Harry reached for the door that opened into the corridor. He shook his head as Hermione stepped past him. "Honestly, woman. I feel like I have no idea who you are," he said, chuckling.

A small tinkle of laughter came to him from over her shoulder. "You'll have plenty of time to find out."

When they reached the Great Hall, Hermione turned and leaned towards Harry, her arms outstretched, licking her lips as she reached for him. Just before her lips were close enough to touch his, Hermione paused, letting her eyes go over his face slowly, finally coming to rest on his scar. She pulled up short and blushed, breath catching, and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder before she gave Harry a light hug and stepped back.

"If you get into the books before class, make sure you take good notes," she said without meeting his eyes. Hermione walked away before Harry could respond.

As he watched her disappear into the crowd of students headed upstairs, Harry realized two things. The reason she had been acting natural around him was because she felt like he was still the same Harry she'd known and there were very few moments when she remembered otherwise. The other realization: he wanted to be the boy she'd known, if only to experience what it felt like to have a girl look at him the way she had and know he felt the same way about her.


	14. Magical Property

The globe was still dark. Harry turned the prophecy over in his hand. The light streaming through the dorm window showed no change from the last time he'd looked at it—the night he'd traveled to in 1981. Not one wisp of smoke disturbed the smooth surface. It was a disappointment, but it also raised a number of questions. If he was meant to possess some power Voldemort knew nothing about, _was_ changing the past the catalyst for his death? Or did changing the past eliminate Harry's chance of winning altogether? Did it pass to Neville? Will Voldemort not be a threat at all in this life?

Harry had to consider that option the most likely. Voldemort had possessed Professor Quirrell as a means of getting to the Philosopher's Stone and obtaining a body. From what Hermione had explained, nothing of that scale, nothing even mildly unusual, had happened their first four years at Hogwarts—not even around The Boy Who Lived. In spite of everything else, this was something of a victory.

He dropped the prophecy back into his bag and slid it under the bed. That was something else he'd have to ask Dumbledore about when he got the chance. Whether the Stone was safe and whether there were rumors of Voldemort lurking around somewhere.

Harry opened the lid of his trunk and quickly scanned the contents. There were the textbooks from yesterday's classes—he quickly moved those to the floor—extra quills, ink, parchment, and a wrapped square package. He pulled that out and tugged at the strings holding the brown paper wrapping in place. A high laugh escaped as the cover of the book he was holding came into view.

It read _Wondrous Ways To Win In Battle: A Guide To Self-Defense_ _by Gilderoy Lockhart_. The same award-winning smile Harry remembered was on Lockhart's face. He appeared to be brandishing his wand at an unseen foe beyond the length of the book while he simultaneously smoothed his hair back with the other hand. The book was new by the looks of it. _Has to be for Hermione_, Harry thought. _Makes sense. Her birthday is three weeks away_. He would have to teach Hermione some real defensive techniques later if he gave her that to study. He put the book down and continued searching.

There was nothing left in the bottom of his trunk but clothes and a couple of ratty textbooks for classes he hadn't attended yet. Harry pulled out his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and put it on the bed for later. If he remembered correctly, a long essay would be the first assignment. He shuffled through the clothes he hadn't bothered unpacking yet, sure he would find nothing, until his fingers brushed against a metal box. Tugging, he pulled the box out and examined it. It was antiqued silver, gilded in a fleur-de-lis pattern across the top with two hooked latches across the front. Harry unclasped the latches and lifted the lid.

The box seemed to be filled with nothing but Bulbadox Powder, which Harry was loathe to touch. He didn't fancy getting boils all over his hands in search of a piece of parchment that might not be in his possession. More likely, his counterpart at St. Mungo's was still carrying whatever he'd spoken to Draco about, unless he'd been caught. That might explain Snape's anger about Harry "managing" something. Of course, he could merely be upset because he thought Harry had gotten away from whatever had happened at King's Cross.

_I could really use_… He spotted his dragon hide gloves among the clothes in his trunk and slipped them on to shift through the powder, careful not to spill any of it down the front of his robes or anywhere his feet might touch next to the bed. Buried at the bottom of the box, below four inches of powder, lay a folded sheet of parchment. Pulling it out, Harry noticed that the powder seemed to slide from the parchment's surface as if there were a spell around the sheet protecting it from damage. If Snape and Lucius Malfoy were trying to keep it safe, this charm didn't surprise Harry in the least. If it were up to Snape alone, Harry was sure the thing would probably try to possess anyone who tried to read it.

With that thought in mind, he cautiously opened the parchment, surprised to find the folded-in sides blank. He would leave it up to Hermione to do the honors. With her class notes to rely on for so many years, he hadn't bothered committing any revealing charms to memory and none of the books in his trunk would be helpful. They'd be going over the library books later, anyway.

On the subject of memories, maybe he and Hermione could figure out how Dumbledore had extracted memories to store in the Pensieve. Would the Room of Requirement give them one? If it could, he'd at least be able to show Hermione what had happened that night at the Ministry and get her help figuring out how to fix the Time-Turner, if it could be fixed by a student. He'd probably have to ask Dumbledore for another one. _That_ was a conversation he was not looking forward to.

* * *

"Ready?" Hermione asked as they left the Great Hall.

Harry pulled her to the side, out of the way of the other students leaving dinner and heading for their common rooms. "Actually, I just remembered something. I need to go to the dungeons and finish the Draught of Peace for Lestrange. You can go to the dorms and get the books. My notes are inside the time travel book already. You can add anything you think we need to go over. I'll meet you in the Room of Requirement later." Harry should've known before he'd finished that ordering Hermione off was easier said than done.

She shook her head. "I don't want you down there by yourself at night. It's too dangerous."

"Hermione, it's just a classroom. I'll be fine." _And I haven't done too badly taking care of myself with or without your help_, he wanted to add.

"Yes, you will," she said, "because I'll be coming with you." As Harry rolled his eyes, Hermione continued. "I can use the time to work on the antidote and figure out what Professor McGonagall gave you." She gestured to the pocket containing the vial of blue potion. "That will tell us if she can really be trusted."

Harry started to argue with her, but stopped himself. What would be the point, really? She'd end up down there with him anyway, only she'd be upset, determined to prove herself right. The last thing he needed was the same type of relationship she had with Ron. Or used to have, before everything changed. He still wasn't sure it had all changed for the better.

"Fine. You'll still need to get the remedies book, at least. I've already got my stuff for Potions." He lifted the strap on his book bag to his shoulder. "I'll meet you down there?"

Hermione smiled at his easy acquiescence. "See you soon." She turned on her heel and headed up the stairs, just missing Harry's quick eye roll. She might be less of a pain in this life, but she was no more a pushover now than she had been then. Harry had half a mind to start flirting with her to see if it would loosen her up a bit. That had kept Hermione from asking too many questions his first night in the castle. Then again, what would he do if she started to like it?

* * *

Harry was adding syrup of hellebore to the potion when he heard Hermione come into the dungeon classroom behind him. "It's about time," he said. "I thought you'd abandoned me."

A throaty laugh accompanied the sound of heels walking across the stone floor. "I couldn't do that, Harry." Harry's blood ran cold as he turned and spotted Bellatrix Lestrange making her way across the room towards him. She smiled as she reached his table. "Expecting someone?"

"Hermione." _Of all the times to not have taken an antidote to a truth serum_. "She's coming down to work on something. She'll be here soon." _Why did I add that last?_

Bellatrix nodded. "You two seem very close."

Harry didn't respond. _Why is she down here? Her last class would've ended over an hour ago_, he thought. He turned back to his potion and stirred the contents.

She peered into his cauldron and smiled. "I'm surprised at you, Harry. You seem to be doing better with this potion than some of the easier ones we attempted last year."

He shrugged. "I've learned what not to do when making a potion."

She laughed and Harry wanted to back away a step. "You're a smart boy," she said. "Young man, really." Bellatrix circled the table and put an arm around Harry. He dropped the silver knife he had been using to cut his next potion ingredient. "You know, if you ever need help, or anything else, I'd welcome it if you came to me," she said, voice low. She smile and gazed into his eyes as her voice dropped to a whisper. "If you ever need something Hermione isn't in a position to—"

"Harry, I think I've got it figured out," Hermione started. "By the way, your dorm is an absolute mess—oh! Hello, Professor." Hermione had stopped short a few feet into the classroom, taking in the scene before her.

Bellatrix straightened as Hermione came into the room, giving Harry a chance to hide his now shaking hands beneath the table. At this rate, he'd need to take the Draught of Peace before the night was over.

"Miss Granger. Harry told me you were coming down to work on something." She smiled and took a step back from the table.

"If you don't mind me using a cauldron, Professor. I know Harry's only here to make up class work." Hermione reached the table and put her bag down next to Harry's cauldron.

"No, I don't mind," Bellatrix said, backing up further. "As long as you clean up after yourselves. Harry, if you finish the potion tonight, I'll be in my office. But there's no rush," she said. "I'll be grading the assignments from your class tomorrow." She smiled quickly and left the classroom, slamming the door behind her.

The minute the door closed, Hermione asked, "What was her excuse for being in here?"

Harry shrugged. "Never gave one, really."

"But, why was she even talking to you? How did she even know you were down here?"

"Hermione, you're starting to sound paranoid. If she was on the way to her office, she probably noticed I left the door open. Is her office down here?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Yes, it's just down the hall…but why was she talking to you? This potion is difficult enough without someone in your ear the whole time. She was touching you, just like in class, and she was whispering in your ear!" Hermione's eyes narrowed and she turned to Harry. "There was no one around to overhear. Was she—Harry, was she _flirting_ with you?"

Harry wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of Bellatrix Lestrange putting moves on him, but he couldn't deny feeling something weird around her again. He shrugged. "She was saying something about helping me if I need it and standing far too close. When you came in, she was telling me she can give me what I need that you can't. I'm not really sure what she meant by that."

"I am, and it's disgusting." Hermione slammed her fist onto the desk. "There have been rumors for years that some of the more handsome students in her classes have gotten better grades once they spent time getting _tutored_ by her, but I never believed any of it. I thought she was helping them learn." Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You don't think she's tried to do anything like this to you before?"

Harry leaned back from the table, hands up in a defensive gesture. "The way she was talking, I think this is the first time she tried to get close like this. She's not really my type anyway. I prefer girls my own age."

Hermione smiled. "See that you always do."

Harry smiled back as she immediately relaxed. He neglected to remind her that she no longer had a claim on whatever girls he took an interest in.

* * *

An hour later, an exclamation from Hermione stopped Harry as he added the last few stirs to his potion.

"Damn," she said again in a much softer tone. She consulted the book she'd been working from before crossing her arms and staring at the bubbling liquid in the cauldron.

"Did you just curse?"

"You were right," she responded.

Harry fought down a grin. "Say that again."

"The antidote was real."

"Well, yeah."

Hermione fixed Harry with a glare. "I'm going to add the last few ingredients back in," she said. "It needs to simmer for another twenty minutes before it'll turn blue again. Then you'll need to take it off the fire."

"Me? Where will you be?"

"Girls' bathroom on the second floor." Hermione frowned. "The bathrooms down here are disgusting. They're all dank and covered in mildew. Probably haven't been cleaned since the school was founded. I'd rather take my chances with Moaning Myrtle. If I'm not back before twenty minutes is up…"

"Yeah, take it off the fire." He extinguished the fire under his own cauldron with a quick puff of air from his wand. "Still don't see why it'll take twenty minutes."

"You try negotiating the stairs after carrying those library books half the day along with everything else and see how much energy you have." She smiled as she said this and left Harry in the dungeon, seriously debating slipping Hermione some of his draught. She could stand to lighten up a bit.

He siphoned his potion into an empty beaker and, checking his watch, decided he could slip into Lestrange's office and make it back in time to take the other potion from the heat.

As he neared Bellatrix's office, Harry heard voices coming from inside. He stopped just outside the slightly open door.

"I'm beginning to wonder why I asked you to help at all. You're not proving very useful."

_Snape?_

"Oh please, Severus," Bellatrix started. Gone was the simpering, sugary tone Harry had been hearing for two days. Now he was hearing the deep tones he associated with the torture-loving Death Eater he'd met in the Hall of Prophecy. "Don't act as if I've been of no use to you, to the cause." There was a pause. "I gave you something very valuable, did I not?"

"You did prove useful…a long time ago. Now it seems as if you're good for nothing but prancing around a classroom and giving lackluster students a pass."

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl and the sound of breaking glass.

"Temper, Bella," came Snape's drawling tones.

"I'll have you know this assignment is not what I had agreed to. My talents are being wasted on simple-minded children."

"If the students of Hogwarts are so simple-minded, why is it that you can't get so much as a piece of parchment from a hormonal fifteen-year-old?"

She growled again. "You try charming anything out of him. I spent half the summer trying to get into his head to find out what he knew. The boy looks scared every time I come near him."

"As well he should, if I remember your proclivities correctly," Snape responded. "Charm it out of him? Are you a witch or aren't you? I don't care if you torture him and Obliviate him after, I want that parchment back! Preferably _before_ he figures out the whole plan."

"I thought he didn't have his mother's brains, Severus. And why is it that you can't retrieve it from Harry, again? He _is_ your stepson. I'm sure we could get Draco to—"

"Harry, you almost let the potion boil over."

At Hermione's voice, Harry jumped and ran down the hall, glancing over his shoulder as he pushed her in front of him.

"What—?"

"Shh!" The voices in the office had gone quiet. He would have to strangle Hermione later. "Is it done?" he asked, motioning to the vial in her hand. She nodded and he downed the still-warm liquid as the door to Bellatrix's office opened down the hall. Harry turned, one hand hidden behind his back. Hermione slipped the empty vial from his hand and into her pocket.

Bellatrix smiled as she walked down the hall to them. "Finish your assignment already?"

Harry nodded and held out his potion. He couldn't tell if the antidote was working yet.

She smiled wider at the two students. "Looks like great work, Harry," she said in what he now thought of her Perfect Professor voice. "You'll remember what I said about coming to me for anything?" She glanced at Hermione. "Even just to talk?"

Harry nodded and began backing away, taking Hermione's hand as he moved. "I'll be sure to come to you if I have the slightest problem." He smiled brightly. Now he was sure the antidote had worked.

"Good night," she called as Harry and Hermione slipped back into the Potions classroom.

Hermione watched Harry pack his things with shaking hands for a full minute before her curiosity got the better of her. "What happened? What did I miss?"

Harry stopped what he was doing. He wanted to yell at her for interrupting, but she'd had no idea what she was doing. That almost made it worse since she was constantly telling him to be more careful. Constant vigilance. Too bad she'd never had the chance to meet Mad-Eye Moody.

She touched his arm. "Harry?"

"Whatever Snape and Malfoy are into, Bellatrix Lestrange is a part of the plan," he said softly so his voice would not carry. "And it's her job to get to me."


	15. Building Fire

As they entered the Room of Requirement, Harry looked around at the furniture and started briefly. "Why is there a bed in here again?" he asked under his breath. "I never asked for that."

"Oh," Hermione said. As Harry turned to her, she started to blush. "After we were caught on your bed last term, we needed a place to meet privately and found this room."

"With a bed?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I told you, we never did anything!" she said defensively. A smile lurked at the corners of her mouth. "We ended up using the room as our own little common room. We were up here every day for two weeks before exams and you got bored watching me study. Eventually, you asked the room for the bed so you could sleep. Except for the food, it's the same set-up every time we come up together."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to the story that you're not telling me?"

Hermione shrugged and turned away from him, putting the books on remedies and magical devices on the desk.

He watched her for a minute before he decided to ignore her silence. She had her reasons for not wanting to talk about it. Harry opened his bag and pulled out the parchment he'd found in his trunk earlier. He surveyed the table and the number of things they had to go over and search for before things could be put to rights.

That night in Godric's Hollow, it hadn't seemed this complicated. He'd thought his life—everyone's lives—would improve if he could prevent just that one tragedy. Harry never imagined it could turn out to be more complex than his previous life had been. He still had no idea what was going on at the hospital, just that the Ministry was seriously concerned about whoever had attacked him and McGonagall was growing more suspicious every time they spoke. Instead of having to survive repeated attacks from Voldemort and his followers, Harry was having to save himself from his own mistakes.

He sank down onto the sofa and let his head fall forward, leaning his forearms across his knees. He didn't know if he could handle a whole different set of problems. He'd been doing it for nearly five years, what now felt like a lifetime, and he wanted some time to just be normal. If he ever could be. He didn't even have the friendship with Ron he used to have, but perhaps that could change. With the drama surrounding his relationship with Hermione, he missed Ron more than he could say. And Hermione—he had no idea what to do about her, especially when she kept looking at him like she expected him to confess that this was all a dream and he was still the same boy she'd fallen in love with. He couldn't pretend, he couldn't undo it and he didn't know where to begin making up for what he'd caused. Harry looked up as Hermione cleared her throat.

"You're sure you heard it correctly?" Hermione asked. "They're working for a common cause and she gave him something valuable?"

Harry sighed and nodded as she paced. "The parchment most likely."

Hermione shook her head. "Not necessarily. Why would she give that to them when she could've easily kept it hidden at home? Unlike Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape, she doesn't have kids at home."

"Maybe she doesn't want her husband to know what's going on. No one else is telling their spouse the plan," Harry said.

"According to Draco," Hermione countered. "No one else's spouse is a Death Eater. Unless you're not sure about Mrs. Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head. "She wasn't in the graveyard that night. If she was a Death Eater, she'd be in the inner circle with her husband. And my mum would never join them."

"Oh, I know that, Harry," Hermione said, still pacing. "What would three Death Eaters be working on together?"

"How do we know it's even a Death Eater thing? Snape and Malfoy have known each other since they were students here and Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't that far ahead of them in school. Malfoy is her brother-in-law. They've been friends since before they all took the Mark."

"It's the only thing that makes sense." Hermione frowned and stopped pacing. "Except Voldemort's not around for them to support anymore. Maybe one of them wants to be the new Dark Lord. Maybe they're planning to take over the school or the Ministry or something."

"Or maybe we should stop guessing and find further proof." He motioned to the parchment he'd tossed onto the table earlier. "We've got enough on our hands trying to get that thing unlocked without getting caught. Never mind the situation with the Time-Turner."

"I have some ideas about that," Hermione began. "You may not want to hear them, though."

Harry glanced up and nodded at the worried expression that had become commonplace for Hermione the last couple of days. "There's been a lot of that going around lately. Go ahead."

Grabbing _Magical Devices and Their Proper Uses _from the table, Hermione sat next to Harry and flipped to the section on Time-Turners. She showed Harry the first page and the small amount of information on the second one. "As you can see, we don't have much to work with. The Ministry guards them pretty well and prefers that each person using one receives personal instruction when they are given permission to travel.

"There are a few major rules, but you only need to pay attention to one. 'Never alter the events of time so as to dramatically alter the course of history. Special permission may be given in such cases where great tragedies can be avoided if they can be narrowed to one event, but the traveler must be careful to act only in the best needs of the society affected.' So, you've already thrown that one out of the window," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "I know what I did. Does it say what the Ministry could do to punish me?"

"No, but that's not what has me worried. In the last section, on traveling forward through time," Hermione flipped to the second page, "the book talks about possible causes of distorted travel or going to the wrong time period. I don't want to read it directly from the book," she said, closing the large volume. "The short of it is, it is very difficult to damage a Time-Turner so that it won't function properly. Even if someone knew the type of spell that could damage it, it has its own protections. Besides, your Time-Turner worked for you, twice. That may not be your problem. You altered something in your personal history, something that affected you and your family." Hermione closed her eyes briefly and Harry could see she was struggling to contain her emotions.

"There's a strong chance you returned to September instead of next June because of the attack at King's Cross Sunday. If you—you would not have been able to get to the right date if your current self is in mortal danger." She opened her eyes again. Her voice shook as she continued. "That's why the Ministry is getting involved, offering you their protection. I think you're in the hospital dying."

Harry couldn't speak for a moment as he let that sink in. "Wait, is that possible? Wouldn't I feel something?"

"I don't know. There's so little information on this because not many wizards are allowed to do it." Hermione shook her head. "It's just a theory, but it makes sense. It would have been damaged during the fight in the Department of Mysteries, right? But, the Time-Turner worked until after you changed something. And when you came into the Ministry Atrium Sunday, it was hours after the train left for the school. It's possible you couldn't move forward because…you'll be dead by June."

Harry had been unable to talk for a long while after Hermione's pronouncement. She had left him alone with his thoughts, thumbing through _Magical Devices_ until she'd satisfied herself that she had exhausted the useful information from it. Eventually, she'd turned to catching up on the long essays she'd been neglecting for two days, intent on catching up with her assignments so she could spend more time helping Harry in the coming days. After a long period of silent thought, he joined her, writing out the homework assignments he'd done months before for a second time as a way to distract himself. Before long, all writing had stopped, parchment had been set to dry and books fell closed as the two Gryffindors fell asleep.

* * *

It was an hour before sunrise when Harry woke. The first thing he noticed was that he couldn't move. No, that wasn't accurate. There was something on top of him that kept him from moving. A weight that seemed to cover the length of his body. A weight that was warm and soft from the feel of it, and topped with bushy hair that tickled the bottom of his chin and neck. Hermione. Harry felt around until his fingers brushed his wand and eased it from his pocket slowly. He whispered, "_Lumos_," and the sofa and immediate area were surrounded by a soft light.

They were lengthwise on the sofa, Hermione with her torso across Harry's chest and stomach, her legs entangled with his. Their books, robes, parchment and quills littered the floor next to the sofa. Harry pulled his other arm from beneath where Hermione had pinned it to his chest and stretched a bit, wondering it if it would be rude to push her off of him. She wasn't heavy, but his legs were numb from having her on top of him half the night in such an awkward position.

"Hermione," he whispered. She didn't wake. He moved his wand down to see her face better. She was smiling faintly, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks even in sleep as she snuggled against his chest. He whispered her name again and she moved a little, stretching her body over his on the sofa, her face moving to nuzzle against his neck.

Harry was about to see if he could maneuver his way out from under her when Hermione reached up and slipped her fingers into his hair. Her lips met his neck in a series of soft kisses and she made a noise in back of her throat that was a cross between a deep sigh and a low purr. He felt that soft, feminine purr from the sensitive skin of his neck all the way down the center of his back, where it stopped and tingled before dissipating. He craned his neck to look at her face. She was still asleep.

He smoothed a few curls behind one ear and whispered her name again, pushing at her shoulder as he did so. "Yes, Harry," she breathed against his neck. Hermione stretched up again and brought her face level with his, gripping his hair in both fists and planting kisses along his neck and jaw line. She sighed into his ear and moved her body against his, straddling his legs as she moved up. Her soft lips met the space between his jaw line and the back of his ear and her tongue followed suit. Instantly, Harry felt blood pool in his groin. When he felt Hermione's teeth nibble at his earlobe, he dislodged her hands from his hair and pushed her backwards. She woke as her back collided with the other end of the sofa.

"Ow! What—?" Hermione stopped talking as she spotted Harry stretched out in front of her, holding out his lit wand as it were going to protect him.

"It's late—well, early. We—we fell asleep," he stammered. He shifted on the sofa, hoping Hermione couldn't see the tell-tale bulge in the front of his pants in the dim light. "I hope we can make it to the dorms before anyone catches us." He stopped his rambling before he could make an even bigger fool of himself. If the look of horror on Hermione's face was any indication, she was well aware of what she'd been doing in her sleep. Harry hoped she was equally aware he was trying his best to ignore it.

"Wow, I guess I was more tired than I thought."

Harry chanced a glance at her. She was looking at their belongings on the floor rather than at him. He took it as a blessing as he stood and shook out the hem of his snug pants.

"At least I got all of my homework done," she said as she bent to pick up the papers.

Harry turned abruptly as the fabric of her skirt pulled high. "Yeah," he said over his shoulder, more to fill up the now confining space with sound than to make any real effort at conversation. He thought back to the night he'd arrived at Hogwarts when Hermione had kissed him and then invited herself into his bed while everyone else had been at the Welcome Feast. What would have happened if he'd played along, taken her up on her offer? Would she have forgiven him later? Would he feel guilty? Forgive himself? What if—?

"Your homework, Harry." Without waiting for a response, Hermione shoved several rolls of parchment and the dream journal for Divination into his hands. She turned and slipped the strap of her book bag over one shoulder. Her robes hung over the other arm.

Harry grabbed the library books from the table and the bag she'd packed for him and ran, meeting her at the door just as she pulled it open. She wrapped her hand around the one holding his wand.

"_Nox_," Hermione whispered and the light went out, leaving them in near-complete darkness. They walked to their common room in silence, alone except for a couple of ghosts drifting down the hall. Once they stepped through the portrait hole, Hermione attempted to run across the room. Harry grabbed her wrist before she could get too far.

"Hermione?"

She turned to face Harry slowly. In the low light of the fire, he read her fear, her yearning, her embarrassment, and something else he was hard-pressed to name before she lowered her eyes and stared at the floor.

"I'll see you in Transfiguration," he said finally, releasing her arm. She smiled faintly and disappeared up the stairs and into the girls' dorm. Harry followed her path up and into the boys' dorm. He had another two hours before he had to get up for breakfast, but somehow he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore.

* * *

_Author's note: To read an alternate ending to this chapter, check out the short story "Closer."_


	16. Resistant to Control

"Your findings are absolute?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he watched Healers Strout and Cummings fumbling through the paperwork containing their current diagnosis. From the moment he'd stepped into the closed ward, he'd known Harry's condition was more serious than they'd first suspected, but he had no idea the magnitude of what the young man was facing. It had undoubtedly been a serious case when James was diagnosed with the illness nearly a decade before, but everyone who'd been involved then had been under the impression that the length of time it had taken to determine anything was seriously wrong had contributed to the disease's spread. Now, it seemed, there was just as little hope as there had been for James, if the determinations so far proved true.

Healer Sprout nodded as she came to the page they'd been searching for. "We've measured the results very carefully since you last checked in, Minister. Every time we give the patient a potion that might alleviate any of the symptoms—fever, coughing, even the brief nightmares—the symptoms seem to increase in intensity for several hours, longer each time if we increase the dosage. If we do not treat any of it, the symptoms remain steady, but do not disappear altogether. The disease is—"

"Completely resistant to cure. That is the true nature of this curse," Dumbledore added. "Any attempt to cure it will result in the patient dying faster and in more pain than he was already in. Is that the whole of it?"

"Yes," Healer Cummings said. "Although, I find it surprising that we had no trouble curing his superficial physical wounds. There were no apparent side effects from healing his bones or bruises."

"Those were not caused by this curse," Dumbledore supplied, though he did not need to. Both Healers knew just as much, or as little, about this disease as he did. It seemed there was little to do now but wait for Harry to die…or come up with a cure that might do nothing but kill him faster. He nodded at both Healers as he left the ward for the Ministry.

* * *

The moment she felt the air in the office change, McGonagall resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd been rid of Dumbledore's "help" for nearly two days and had managed to convince herself that he would let her handle the Potter situation without interference for a little while. She was at the point where she wondered how he got anything done at his job since he was paying so much attention to how she was doing hers.

McGonagall finished her conversation with Angelina Johnson about the Quidditch team tryouts and dismissed the student from her office. Without turning around, she said, "Yes?"

"More information has come to light and I will be taking immediate action."

McGonagall turned quickly to face the portrait, alarm crossing her features. "Don't tell me Harry's died."

"No, though I fear his condition is more serious than we had first suspected." Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke slowly, his voice weary. "At present rate, the Healers say he will live only a few more months without a cure. This is only an estimate, of course."

She was silent as she considered this. Even if they were able to find his attacker, it could already be too late. "What has happened that requires action from the Ministry?" she asked finally.

"I have gotten reports from the Department of Mysteries and the Improper Use of Magic Office regarding events that occurred this past Sunday. Their findings worry me. I am going to station an Auror at Hogwarts tonight until such time that the situation is resolved."

Dumbledore spoke with such conviction, McGonagall almost chided herself for questioning his authority. She did, however, expect to be consulted rather than informed about what would be taking place at the school. "Well? What is this information that has you so concerned?"

"For the time being," he responded, "it is best that you do not know exactly what has happened. It will only cause you undue worry."

She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at the man in the portrait. "Albus, the entire situation is worrisome. It could not possibly get any worse. How will I explain an Auror patrolling the school if this unnamed professor is not to become suspicious?"

"Harry still has not trusted you with the name? It is just as well," Dumbledore said. "I am of the opinion that Mr. Potter's story will prove interesting once it all comes to light. The Auror will investigate our young wizard as well as scrutinize the professors at her will. I hope this will relieve some of the worry and burden from you."

It would do nothing of the sort, but McGonagall raised no further objection. It would be useless. Truthfully, she just longed for the Minister to admit she had been right to be suspicious of Potter from the first. About as likely as Sybill Trelawney giving an honest prediction.

"She will be my eyes and ears around the school and provide you with daily reports should you require them."

"Of course," McGonagall said. "Is there a reason she will be investigating Potter as well? I thought you trusted him."

Dumbledore hesitated. "He has some explaining to do. He will do it personally." His tone brooked no argument. "I will be at Hogwarts sometime this weekend. In the meantime, Auror Tonks will enter the school as an Improper Use of Magic official who shall be searching the school for a list of dangerous objects that went missing just before school started."

"That excuse seems a bit thin, Albus. If a murderer were suspicious that Potter or anyone else is on to him—"

"She will be discreet," Dumbledore said, interrupting. "She knows the seriousness of her mission and will act only under my strictest instructions. Can you make sure the staff makes her feel welcome? I would like it if all of the Professors know immediately that someone from the Ministry is watching. Perhaps we can flush the culprit out."

"I don't think that's a good idea," McGonagall said. "If we antagonize or corner him, he is likely to strike again. Harry's life, not to mention that of the other students, is in danger. I will not permit—"

"Excuse me, Minerva, but I am not giving you a choice."

She stopped speaking at his words and stared at his portrait, her agitation growing.

"This is no longer merely a matter of school security. The Ministry will take every step necessary to handle the situation, with or without your permission." When she said nothing, he added, "Expect Auror Tonks just before dinner. Kindly inform the staff before that time."

* * *

There was no way he could do it. Harry sat on the edge of his bed repeating his new mantra to himself as the thoughts tried to force their way back into his consciousness. _I can't kiss Hermione. I can't date Hermione. I will not sleep with Hermione_. It was silly. Nothing like these thoughts had ever entered his mind in all the time that he'd known her, but having her all over him the other night (unconsciously and uninhibited) had awoken something Harry thought best stamped out before it came into fruition.

She was a friend. They'd saved each other's lives, lied and cried and gotten detention together. She knew his deepest insecurities and sometimes knew things he didn't want to admit to himself. There was no way they could be more than friends. She would use it to her advantage. Order him around. Fuss about everything he did. Inject her opinion and mark on everything of importance in his daily life. _Oh hell_, Harry thought. _She's already done that_.

But this was different. Another life. A life-threatening situation. They'd gone through those before and came through it as nothing more than friends. Then he'd started to enjoy the way she was kissing him and his friendly thoughts were all for naught. Was this how it had happened to the other Harry? One minute she was helping with his homework, the next she was pulling his hair and moaning his name?

Harry ran a sweaty palm down the front of his pants leg. If that was all it took, he was already gone. After the craziness with Cho—the crying, the insecurity, the sneaking suspicion that she wished he were someone else—it was nice to be with someone that really wanted him. Someone who looked at him like her world was in his eyes. Someone who cared for him like her life would end if he wasn't in it. Someone who wanted to connect with him like she wouldn't be complete until she had. It was no wonder crazy thoughts were going through his head. She was giving him something he was beginning to think he'd never have.

But was she the right person to get it from? Maybe he could like being with Hermione. Maybe he could even love her one day. (Assuming he didn't die in the next few months.) But could he do all that without her driving him crazy? Was it worth trying? Or would not knowing drive him crazy faster? He sighed. He didn't think she'd give him a chance to figure it out for himself.

"Harry!" A hand waved in front of his face and Harry jumped, startled as Ron laughed. "You all right? I've been calling you for a couple of minutes."

Harry nodded, glad he could now lie. He loosened his tie and slipped it off, tossing it onto the bed. "Did you need something?"

"Hermione's waiting for you downstairs," he said. "I know it's none of my business, but you guys didn't have another fight, did you?" Ron shrugged as Harry looked at him. "You've both been acting a little weird for a couple of days. Since," Ron's ears started to turn red, "the night you didn't sleep here," he said in a low voice.

Harry shrugged one shoulder and looked away from Ron. Neither Seamus nor Neville was paying them any attention as they dumped their books and headed down to dinner. He hadn't realized anyone had noticed him slipping into the room early that morning. He'd made a point of getting showered, dressed and going for a walk on the grounds before anyone woke up. He'd needed to be alone with this thoughts, not that it had made anything any clearer.

"We—something happened the other night." Harry began to wish desperately that Ron was still his best friend. He couldn't tell just anyone what had happened, what he was thinking. He met Ron's eyes again. "I don't think I can talk about it," Harry said quietly. He knew he looked sad just then, but he couldn't help the longing to confide in the one person he used to be able to tell everything to.

"No, I understand," Ron said. "If you ever want to, you know…"

Harry nodded but said nothing as the other boy went downstairs, leaving him alone in their dorm, second-guessing everything he thought he knew about his relationship with his best friend.

Hermione said nothing to Harry after he'd come downstairs. They put their arms around each other in casual silence and made their way to the Entrance Hall. Before they could get inside the Great Hall, Hermione pulled Harry outside the flow of students. As Harry watched her expression change from stoic to confused, he began to dread what was coming.

"Harry, is something wrong?"

He frowned. "You mean besides that my stepfather tried to kill me and in a few months or weeks or even days, he will have succeeded? Other than that, no, nothing. I don't have a care in the world."

"That's not what I mean," she said. "With us. You've been acting…have I done something wrong?" Her voice dropped lower and Harry had to lean closer to hear her over the chatter of the other students. "When we woke up yesterday morning, you said it was just that we'd fallen asleep. I assumed that we were close together on the couch, but…" She turned wide eyes up to him, willing him to fill in the blank.

"Your virtue is still intact. Don't worry."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "That's not what I meant!"

"Mr. Potter? Miss Granger?" They both turned to face Professor McGonagall. "A word?"

Without sparing Hermione a glance, Harry walked across the Entrance Hall to where the Headmistress stood waiting.

"The time has come, Mr. Potter." When Harry stared at her, confused, she continued. "The Ministry has sent someone to collect the answers you've neglected to give thus far." McGonagall motioned to a woman who was a little ways down the short hall behind McGonagall. She was short and thin, with a young face Harry didn't recognize but felt was familiar all the same. She stood in the hall as Professor Quirrell spoke to her animatedly, a bored expression on her face.

"If you don't tell me the name of the professor immediately, I have instructions to turn you over to her to do as she sees fit. Interrogations or otherwise."

Harry hesitated. "Is there any way I can—?"

"The time for negotiations has long since passed," McGonagall said. "It's now or your freedom, Mr. Potter."

Hermione touched his arm. "Harry."

"Is there a problem?"

Harry barely kept himself from jumping in place as Snape approached. Hermione was visibly shaken by his sudden appearance, but covered it by clinging to Harry's arm and leaning onto his shoulder.

McGonagall glanced at Hermione strangely for a moment before turning to Snape. "Not at all, Severus. Harry and I were just discussing—"

"Quidditch tryouts," Harry said. "I wasn't sure of the date for my House and I haven't seen a notice posted yet."

"No, I suppose you haven't," McGonagall said. Her eyes narrowed on his face, but she continued speaking in a normal tone. "Miss Johnson and I discussed it just this morning. I believe she intends to hold tryouts tomorrow. I am not clear on the time, but the notice should be posted after dinner."

Harry nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."

Snape cocked his head at an angle and smiled slightly. "Quidditch? Really? I didn't think you had an athletic bone in your body, Harry."

"I like to think I got all of my father's best traits," Harry said, looking his stepfather in the eye.

Snape nodded. "I suppose we'll see if you turn out just like James before long," he said. "You certainly have shown a flair for dramatic performances in my class lately. Good luck tomorrow." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off into the Great Hall at a brisk walk, stark black robes billowing behind him.

"Mr. Potter—"

"He's going to kill Harry, Professor," Hermione said. They both turned to her. She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry Harry, but she has to know. Professor Snape—" Her voice cracked on the name, but she didn't need to finish the statement. The tension between them had been enough to give McGonagall a hint of what Harry was up against.

After a few moments Harry asked, "Do you understand now why I couldn't say anything?"

For a minute, McGonagall stood there, tension radiating from the stiff way she tapped her foot to the way her eyes narrowed to black slits behind her glasses. "I understand a great deal more than you know, Mr. Potter." Her voice was low, but it communicated an anger Harry had never seen McGonagall demonstrate before. The power that seemed to be emanating from her now felt dangerous and Harry was glad he would no longer be on the receiving end of her anger.

"Professor, you said the Ministry would provide protection. Now that you know—"

"You will not come to harm while you are at this school, Harry." McGonagall turned gleaming eyes on him. "I will personally see to it."

"Not for me," Harry said. "For my mother and my sister." McGonagall raised her eyebrows in shock. "I don't know if he would ever hurt them, but I don't want to take that chance. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you might act differently around him and…my mom, she'd never believe me if I told her."

McGonagall sighed. She stared off again, her eyes losing focus as she spoke. "Lily always wants to believe the best in people. I'll see what I can do to protect her. I'm sure Dumbledore will guarantee that she and Raven remain unharmed."

Harry nodded, not sure if this was a good time to bring up what he suspected about his other self in the hospital and the parchment he'd found. A tug on his arm from Hermione quickly shook him from his thoughts.

"We'll have a lot more to tell you after this weekend, Professor." McGonagall turned her attention to Hermione. "Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest."

McGonagall nodded and stared off again, her face appearing set in stone. Their conversation over, Harry let Hermione pull him away, in the direction of the Great Hall. The look on McGonagall's face as she realized the truth stayed in his mind. There had been confusion and disbelief and a sudden fury so strong, her mouth had barely moved when she spoke. Walking away, Harry knew Hermione had done the right thing. Though it was at once awesome and scary to realize, the three of them had just declared war.


	17. Best Laid Plans

Harry shoved food into his mouth mechanically, as he had ever since he found out he was going to die. It had all become tasteless to him, just something to keep him going until the inevitable end. He noticed Hermione watching him anxiously out of the corner of his eye. He knew what she was thinking—_Is he upset because I told McGonagall? What does this mean for us?—_but he didn't feel the need just then to comfort her. He had enough to consider. Now that McGonagall knew, how long would it be before Snape put it together that he'd been found out? And after that, how long would it take before Harry's own personal clock stopped ticking? He was living on borrowed time and he had no idea how to fix it. No, the last thing he wanted to do was reassure Hermione. What he wanted—and did not dare take advantage of—was her comfort. Even as she held his arm, imploring him with her eyes, he knew it was temptation he had to resist.

"Harry?" she whispered. "We need to think about what to do next."

Harry let his fork fall to the plate with a clatter. He emptied the glass of pumpkin juice next to his plate before he turned to Hermione. "What do you suppose that is?" She winced at his tone. He hadn't meant to sound short with her, but he couldn't help reacting when she looked at him that way.

"There's someone here who can protect you now, but there's still a lot to be sorted through."

He nodded.

"I want to go to the Room of Requirement tonight and try to break the protections on the parchment. I know it's not the priority, but—"

"But it's the reason he tried to kill me," Harry supplied.

"Yes." Hermione glanced around the table to make sure no one was listening to them. "I have _Counter Curses for the Modern Age_ in my dorm. There are a few that I think might come in handy."

"No," Harry responded.

"No?" Hermione asked. "But I thought—"

"Not tonight, Hermione." He shook his head and his eyes dropped to his lap. He was fighting down the sudden urge to scream at her suggestion. "I can't. I'm too tired to even try. Now, if you can help me get a hold of a Pensieve, then I might be up to using it."

She frowned. "I think I've read the name before, but I can't remember where. Why would you need one?"

"A Pensieve is used to review memories. I feel like there's something I need to go over again, something I need to see," he said. "Retrieving memories seems like a stress-free way to spend the evening. Besides, I could show you what happened that night at the Ministry and a lot of the other things I've been through. Show you the kind of enemy we're up against."

"I got a good idea from the stories you told me Monday."

"Hermione, you have no idea unless you've seen Death Eaters in action." Harry thought back to everyone insisting on accompanying him to the Department of Mysteries and scolded himself for letting them all come, for letting himself get caught in that trap. If he'd listened to Hermione that day…

"If what we're into involves the lot of them, you need to see everything they and Voldemort have tried to get to me. It might help us protect ourselves. Or it may just give you an idea what kind of protections could be on that parchment." Most of all, looking at his memories would give Harry a chance to lose himself in things he hadn't indirectly caused for a few hours. A welcome distraction in the guise of giving Hermione background information. He knew she could easily research Death Eater activities without going through his memories with him. He also knew she was dying to see the Harry she was now spending time with, since she was falling in love with him too. He had guessed how she felt, even if she hadn't said it.

"Okay," she said softly. "How do we get one?"

"I don't know," Harry said. It was the flaw in the plan. "Dumbledore used to keep one in a cabinet in his office, but he's no longer Headmaster. I'm sure he took it with him when he left."

"He's only been gone from the school three years, maybe he left it to Professor McGonagall. Why would he need it as Minister?"

"If you were his age, wouldn't your head be a little crowded?"

Hermione smiled at Harry's question and they both relaxed a bit.

"Who else at the school might have one?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Professor Trelawney? She has all kinds of strange objects in that tower of hers. Maybe she'll let us borrow one."

"I doubt it," Harry said. "I don't think it's the typical request from a student. Still, we can try taking it if she has one." At Hermione's wide-eyed expression, Harry added, "If she doesn't use it, she'll never know it was gone. And we can return it as soon as we're done."

"It still sounds like stealing." At Harry's exasperated expression, she asked, "And if she doesn't have one?"

"I was thinking we'd try the Room of Requirement first. Never know, it might give us one if we ask for it. Or I could buy one."

Hermione nodded. "And then?"

"Then I'll need you to get _Magical Devices_ again. I have no idea how to extract memories and I don't think I can get away with asking a professor for help on this."

Hermione nodded. She looked at her half-empty plate, pushed it away and took a few sips from her glass of water. She turned back to Harry. "Ready?" He nodded and they made their way upstairs.

* * *

"It doesn't surprise me," Hermione said as they entered the Room of Requirement. "If a Pensieve does what you say, it would be too easy to get one by conjuring it this way," she said of the unchanged room. "You'll probably have to buy one."

"Or borrow," Harry said. "I still consider that an option."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, we can _borrow_ one. I don't see how we're going to get in and out of the North Tower with something we've borrowed without getting caught. Protected or not, McGonagall will have both our heads if she thinks we've stolen something from a professor."

"She'll never know," Harry said. He grabbed Hermione's hand and walked her out of the Room. They both watched as the door began to disappear and then began walking towards the Gryffindor common room.

"A Disillusionment Charm can only do so much, Harry. Even if it were really good, someone would still see a Pensieve floating along in mid-air if the charm didn't work on it. Unless it would fit under your robes." She paused to consider the option. "Even the castle ghosts are not entirely invisible."

"Hermione!" He hadn't said her name too loudly, but it was enough to stop the incessant flow of words. "I have my Invisibility Cloak, remember? It's big enough to cover both of us."

"And the Pensieve?" she inquired.

Harry hesitated. "I hope so. We'll find out soon enough. If Professor Trelawney even has one." Hermione squeezed his hand and they shared a brief smile before he said, "What I really want to do is get into Snape's office and see if there's any clues about the parchment. I suppose it would be better if we did that over the weekend, when there's more time, but—" Harry stopped as he spotted Professor Snape coming around the corner that lead to the Gryffindor common room with the Ministry employee they'd seen earlier. Harry cursed under his breath.

When Snape spotted them, he motioned the students closer. "Potter, just who I was looking for." He glanced down at Hermione's hand clinging to Harry's and frowned slightly. "I was just telling Ms. Diggory that no one has spent more time exploring the halls of Hogwarts than yourself. And Miss Granger, of course."

Harry found himself staring at the woman's face, trying to determine where he'd seen her before.

"Diggory?" Hermione asked. "Are you related to Cedric? He's a student here."

The woman nodded. "He's a distant cousin."

It was then Harry recognized her. It was Nymphadora Tonks. It was no wonder he didn't know her before. Her eyes were an almond-shaped light gray, her light brown hair worn thick and long. Even her nose was larger than usual, rendering her unrecognizable to anyone who was acquainted with her. Except for her voice. Harry would know her voice anywhere.

"Your class schedule is very light tomorrow, Harry, so I thought you might be available to show Ms. Diggory around the school," Snape said. "She is familiar with the castle and grounds, but she will not be able to access password protected areas of the school without a Prefect to guide her."

"Why would you need to do that?" Harry asked.

Snape answered before she could respond. "The decisions of the Ministry are, as you should be aware, not to be questioned by a fifteen-year-old student."

Tonks cleared her throat and smiled at Harry. "I am conducting inspections for a list of missing objects at the Minister's request." Harry exchanged a short glance with Hermione. "Because of the dangerous nature of these objects, and the large variety of things I must find, it is imperative that I have access to all private areas of the school, including the student dorms."

Harry made a mental note to hide the bag containing his Cloak and the prophecy, not to mention the parchment sitting on top of the books in his trunk. That is, if that was her real purpose at the school. If Dumbledore had really sent her, there was no way to tell if her job was to inspect the school as Snape had said or to question him, as McGonagall had indicated. Also, there was no reason she couldn't be doing both.

"Do you have plans Potter?"

At Snape's question, Hermione dropped his hand.

"No," Harry said. "I'll be happy to show you around the school," he told Tonks. He smiled at Hermione. "I'll catch up with you later. We still need to go over that assignment."

"I can handle the first part of it alone. Don't worry about it," Hermione said.

Snape watched their back and forth exchange for a few seconds before issuing a short bow to Tonks and walking away quickly. Harry sighed.

"I'll see you later?" he asked Hermione. She nodded and kissed his cheek quickly before walking away, leaving him to deal with the Auror Dumbledore had sent to Hogwarts.


	18. Fighting the Inevitable

It was several long hours later that Harry found himself finally saying goodnight to Tonks. If this was a ruse Dumbledore had cooked up to sneak an Auror into the school, Tonks was a finer actress than Harry had ever realized. She'd had him walk her all over the school, from the storage rooms on the ground floor through half the classrooms on the fourth floor, before telling him they'd pick it up tomorrow after classes. They hadn't even gone through any of the passageways Harry was sure would need to be searched if there really were dangerous objects hidden in the school, not to mention the student dorms and professors' quarters.

He'd only been in his dorm a couple of minutes when he realized he was too tense to sleep. In between searching each room, she'd been questioning him. At first, about his life at school, class work and friends and the like. Then, the questions became more pointed. Before long, it was an all-out interrogation and Harry got the feeling Dumbledore trusted him a lot less than he'd let himself believe the last few days. At least he had McGonagall's allegiance now, however hard-won it was. He only hoped it was enough to guard against whatever Snape might try next.

He'd thought longingly of the warm waters in the pool-sized tub of the Prefects' bathroom and before he knew it, Harry was sneaking down the stairs under his Invisibility Cloak and into the bathroom before Filch or anyone else could catch him opening the door. As he watched the bath fill, he wondered what he would do if the news came that his other self was about to die and he personally only had a few hours or days left.

Would he act on all the things he'd been debating the last day or two? Would he tell Hermione he was sorry? Would he leave Hogwarts and try to experience what life was like without a target on your back for a few days? Spend the money his father had left him before he took his last breath? Would he abandon everyone and everything he'd come to know for a few days of peace before it was all over?

No. Even if it came down to standing in front of Voldemort and his followers with no one at his side, Harry knew he'd never give up the fight for something easier, even if he sometimes felt that he more than deserved the break. He couldn't leave everyone else to their fate. Not if he was the one person who could stop it.

With that thought, he cast the Impervius Charm on his glasses, sunk his body into the hot water filling the pool-sized tub and floated on his back amidst the scented bubbles, eyes closed.

What tenet of fate had he violated when he'd tried to change his past? He hadn't asked for this burden, had no way of understanding it, and it seemed, no way of escaping it. Technically, he was no longer The Boy Who Lived, but it still felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. No matter what he did, there was always a mystery that needed to be solved, some enemy that had to be thwarted and he was always cast as the hero whether he wanted to be or not.

For once, just once, he wanted to know what it felt like to be a normal teenager, when his biggest worries would be what essay he could put off until the last minute and whether or not the girl he was interested in liked him back.

It was this last thought that made Harry curse under his breath. He couldn't go there. It was a wonder he wasn't more wound up. Before long, he would have to have a long talk with Hermione. He didn't want to hurt her, and he couldn't say no to her help, but what was he supposed to do about her feelings? He couldn't just make her turn them off. He knew from his experience with Cho that girls didn't work like that. For that matter, neither did he. Anything she was thinking or feeling had to be handled with kid gloves. He would rather have a friend who resented what he'd done by changing the past than a girlfriend he constantly had to lie to in order to receive her help. But how was he going to get that?

Harry took a deep breath and let the water wash over him completely. He let himself sink to the bottom of the tub until he felt some of the tension ease from his back, neck and legs. He stayed there until the weight that had been pressing down on him hard for days seemed to ease a little bit. He didn't move until he heard a slam that signaled someone else coming into the bathroom and closing the door behind them. Was it Snape? Had he somehow been followed? Was the end he'd been dreading tonight?

Slowly, Harry let himself come to the surface, careful not to make waves as he peeked at whoever had entered the bathroom from the center of the water. His head broke the surface just in time to see the girl drop her robe. It was Hermione. She hadn't noticed him yet. She had unbraided her hair facing away from him and was now stretching, standing on the tips of her toes and arching her body as she reached both arms above her head. Before Harry could consider warning her or making a noise, she turned and spotted him, shrieking as she saw his head in the water.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Her face flooded with color and she looked around wildly before returning her gaze to him.

He smiled. The view from the front was much better. "I'm taking a bath. You?"

"I'm—" She seemed to realize then that she was standing before him naked and attempted to cover herself with her hands as Harry walked to the edge of the tub.

"You'd be better off getting into the water if you don't want me to see anything. Not that it matters now," Harry said, grinning. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll get out…"

"No!" Her skin flushed an even darker shade of red at the suggestion.

"You know, I never knew you had freckles. A lot of them."

"Shut up!" She said it with plenty of conviction, but her voice had lost all of the volume that had accompanied her initial reaction. After a few more seconds of Harry smirking at her, she finally lowered her hands to either side and stood before him, trembling slightly.

"Are you going to join me or do I have to come out and get you?"

She seemed to consider this suggestion for a few seconds before shaking her head. "Why didn't you lock the door? Anyone could've come in here."

"We're Prefects. Just us and the Quidditch Captains can come in here. Plus, it's after midnight. I didn't think anyone would be up."

She nodded at his words.

"You never answered my question."

Hermione tilted her head to the side, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Am I going to get you wet or are you coming in here on your own?" His eyes raked her up and down as he asked the question and he knew from her change in expression that her getting into the water at that point would probably entail a lot more than splashing around together. What had he been telling himself earlier? That he needed to let her down gently or something along those lines? Perhaps he'd been too hasty. It was a minute before Harry realized Hermione had dragged the small bag she'd brought with her to the edge of the tub and had slipped into the water next to him.

Between the water and the bubbles he suddenly wished he hadn't added, she was covered up to her collarbone. And she was smiling at him. Not the usual smug grin she got whenever she answered a question in class or the goofy smile she had whenever he caught her staring at him, but a seductive half-smile that gave Harry pause. He had no time to consider what he might be doing to her when the truth was, he couldn't figure out what she was doing to him. And when she stood in front of him, nothing between their bodies but a few splashes of scented bubbles and water, with that expression on her face, he wasn't sure he cared.

She closed the space between them. "Harry, tell me something." Just like that, she'd gone back to Serious Hermione.

He frowned. _She picks now to talk?_

"What happened yesterday morning? I remember doing homework, going through the books…the next thing I know, my back is practically dislocated and you're looking at me like I've got some contagious disease." She stuck out her bottom lip in a small pout. "What did I do wrong?" She put her hands on his shoulders and held him, the tips of her fingers keeping her from floating away from him in the waves of the water.

_Nothing. It's me. I'm an idiot_. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why was she touching him like that? "When you were asleep, you kissed me."

"Is that all?"

_Is that—?_ "You uh…you kissed me on the neck and my ear and you…" _Am I breathing too hard? I'm breathing way too hard_. "And you were kind of rubbing against me," Harry said. He found himself looking at a point over her shoulder as he described the events of the early morning. He could practically hear her laughing as she listened to him. On the inside, he was doing it himself. He was such a coward.

"Oh," Hermione said. "So, I touched you here?" She ran one hand from his chest down his stomach, slowing her movement when she reached his waist. His eyes shot to her face just as she pulled away. "And I kissed you here?" One small fingertip found the spot behind his ear that Hermione had touched with her tongue. It seemed to tingle when she touched it now.

Harry nodded.

"So I wasn't dreaming, then," she said. "Now, that doesn't seem so bad to me. But then, I'm not you." She took a deep breath and stepped back from him. "Maybe you don't want me touching you at all. Is that it, Harry? Am I too dirty for you?" Hermione turned her back to him then and leaned against the side of the tub.

_Crap. Is this one of those stupid pure-blood arguments?_ She had to know he wasn't like that. He would be the last person to come down on anyone for having non-magic parents.

"Hermione, no. That's not a problem."

"Isn't it, Harry?" She turned to look at him over one shoulder and he swallowed hard. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were unreadable. "If that's how you really feel, maybe you should help me with that."

"What?"

She turned to face him fully, her expression sober. "I said, you should help me out if you feel like I'm too dirty for you." She turned and pointed at the bag she'd brought over earlier. "Pick it up."

He grabbed the bag and opened it, still confused.

"Start with my hair." She turned away from him then and waited.

Harry stood still for a moment, still unsure of what Hermione was doing. _Start with what?_ When he looked inside the bag, he saw that she'd brought toiletries with her, shampoo and conditioner and some kind of liquid body wash. Following her instructions, he pulled out the bottle of shampoo and set it on the edge of tub.

He grabbed Hermione's shoulders and she tensed before relaxing as he leaned her back, getting her hair wet. When he brought her upright, he wasted no time in getting her hair filled with peach-scented suds. It was a lot of work. He now fully appreciated how much time it must've taken her to get ready for the Yule Ball. Not only to wash and condition her hair, but to try to tame the curls that were currently wrapping around his hands like Devil's Snare. After her hair was washed, he used the conditioner she'd brought, smoothing out her curls until her hair hung longer than he'd ever seen it dry, down almost past her butt.

She turned to face Harry when he was finished. "Good enough yet?" Hermione leaned towards him and frowned when he tensed. "Apparently not. Here." She reached for the last bottle and squeezed some of the creamy body wash into the palm of his hand. She raised her arms above her head and watched as Harry stared at her in disbelief. "Any time now," Hermione said.

He took a deep breath and began washing Hermione with his hands, starting at a safe spot, her outstretched arms. When he reached her shoulders, he tensed, then brought his soapy hands down her back. By the time his hands stroked over her butt, he wasn't sure how much he was cleaning her or if he was merely running his hands over the curves he couldn't see. This was dangerous. He pulled his hands out of the water and backed away.

"Hermione…"

Frowning, she reached for the bottle of body wash and grabbed his hand again. "Don't forget the front." She squeezed a big handful of liquid into it and stood still as she waited for Harry to touch her again.

Trembling, he came closer and put both hands on her shoulders. "Are you sure?" he asked. She didn't move or respond, just stared him in the eye until he began to move his hands over her, slowly caressing the upper part of her body. When his hands moved over her breasts, Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back into his touch, shuddering as his thumbs teased over her nipples. Harry quickly moved his hands away and stroked down over her stomach before his hands came to rest outside her hips.

She opened her eyes and eyed him again, all trace of her supposed anger gone. "Almost done," she whispered. She took one of his hands and put it between her legs, sighing as his fingers made contact with her sensitive skin.

Before Harry knew what was coming, Hermione had thrown herself against him, her hands tangled in his wet hair, her lips crushed against his. She kissed him as she had the night they'd truly met, when he first arrived at Hogwarts earlier in the week, as if he were the love of her life and the only thing on her mind was joining them in every way possible. He kissed her back hungrily, greedy for the touch of her slick skin against his, the small moans that escaped from her throat driving him to touch her anywhere, everywhere, as they splashed and touched in the water.

Her hand snaked around to his front, down his chest and over his stomach and he jumped away from her. He pulled out of her grasp as a flash of hurt crossed her face.

"What is wrong with you?"

Her whispered question somehow bothered him more than any chastising shout he'd ever suffered from her. There were tears in her eyes now and he'd put them there. He shook his head. "Hermione, we can't. I'm not—"

"Shh. You are. Whether you believe it in your mind or not, you are the person I love. Nothing can change that. You know it here." She placed her hand on his chest where Harry didn't doubt she could feel the quick thumping of his heart. "I know what you're thinking."

"No, you don't or you wouldn't look at me like that."

Her eyes widened at that, but she kept going. "I know you want what we could have together. If you had gone back to the right date, we would've been together by now."

"Would we?" he asked. "I'm never going to know, am I?"

She blinked and looked away from him then.

Harry sighed. He really didn't want to hurt her, but she was making it harder on both of them. "We can't be together, not like that. Not with…with everything we know. The things that are going to happen."

"You don't know it's going to happen. It's just a theory," she said quietly. "And so what? I love you and I want this. We both do." As he started to interrupt, she said, "Don't bother denying it. You have been for days and it's been killing me not to tell how you I feel."

"Hermione, what are you talking about? We can't be a couple. I'm probably going to be dead soon and I don't want you left with nothing but the memory of sleeping with someone you barely know. I can't do that to you. You love someone who is lying in a hospital bed in who knows what condition and I…I want you to—" He swallowed hard. "I want you to want _me_, not the person who shares the same genes as your boyfriend. I'm not a substitute for what you can't have. I can't be him for you. Too much has changed."

Hermione frowned and the tears finally began to fall as she spoke. "You can deny it all you want, Harry, but you and I are together. You're the same person I love just like I'm the same person you knew. Changes in time don't matter. This is going to happen. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can stop fighting me." With that, she got out of the water, wrapped a towel around herself, grabbed her robe and her bag and left the bathroom.


	19. Regroup

"So, what are we going to do?" Bellatrix entered Snape's office and closed the door firmly behind her. She looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Snape looked up from the papers on his desk and frowned. His day had been irritating enough. He was hardly in the mood for this. "Well, what? What do you expect we should do?"

Bella stood in front of his desk for a long moment, staring at the sour face before her. "The old man is suspicious, isn't he? He's sent an Auror to search the school."

"Your eyes and ears are functioning at a suitable level."

She rolled her eyes at this. "Well, Severus?"

He put down his quill and stared at her. She really did expect him to solve everything, didn't she? "What do you expect me to say, Bella?" She began pacing in front of his desk, wringing her hands. "The last thing we need to do is start panicking."

She stopped moving abruptly and turned to him, a look of impending panic distorting her features. "Well then, what do you suppose we do? Diggory is here to search for missing objects, and if she finds the notebook, we're headed for Azkaban."

Snape sighed patiently. He watched as Bellatrix resumed pacing in front of his desk, a child verging on a tantrum. "If she finds it, I will have to answer for it, not us. It is in my possession. Although I can easily conceal it someplace else." Bellatrix did not seem reassured by this statement. "And you surprise me Bella, I thought you believed me intelligent enough not to leave something…sensitive where anyone could find it."

She stopped moving and narrowed her dark eyes on his face. "Forgetting the Key so soon?"

The sound of the pale fist hitting the desktop startled a small scream out of her. Snape stood and came from behind the desk, anger set deep in his face. "I do not make mistakes. I do, however, have the unfortunate luck of choosing accomplices who do. It was not I who left the parchment sitting on top of the desk the first time. It was not I who forgot to reinforce the protections around my office and house." He began shouting. "And it was not I who failed to handle a few defensive spells from a fifteen-year-old child! I would not have let him get away with the most crucial element of our plan. That was Lucius's mistake," he snarled. "He beat the boy senseless, _against my instructions_, and still came away with nothing to show for it. I _also_ did not leave our best resource where he could lay his bloody mitts on it without a fuss a second time. That was your mistake, I believe? You or that idiot brother-in-law of yours. See that it is your last."

Bella took a deep breath, calming herself in response to the obvious threat. "I did not leave anything where Harry could find it. It was only that—"

"It was only that blessed Lucius would rather keep up appearances at a public function than do a job properly. And you did not remind him of his priority before you left. The responsibility is as much yours as his. He was in such a hurry to pose for the cameras and hand over a bag of gold, he left the Key on my desk where anyone could've seen it. The house was left scarcely protected for nearly a week. That parchment could be anywhere."

"Then why do you have me questioning Harry about it?"

"Because he is the only person who would dare defy me." He frowned. "Other than you and Lucius, of course."

She glared back. "If we are so useless to you, why are we working together at all? You treat us as if our presence is a mere convenience."

"My apologies if you feel you could be of better use elsewhere," he drawled. He moved to sit behind his desk again. "I value Lucius for his connections at the Ministry. They have hidden our adventures from the public as well as prying eyes behind closed doors. I value your brains and cunning…when you use them. And, of course, both of you have contributed something of far more material value. You may think I am being dismissive of both of you, but I merely seek to keep everything organized and flowing smoothly before the final steps are taken."

Bellatrix snorted in laughter at this.

"I didn't realize our plans were so ridiculous. Why do you insist on questioning everything I say?"

"Try as you might, things don't seem to flow as perfectly as you plan," she responded.

"I remind you, that is not my fault. Perhaps if you could control that nephew of yours. Or if you had managed to gain Harry's trust long before now, dissuaded him from his interests."

Bella frowned. "Why do you insist on blaming everything on me? Lucius craves power and influence, that is no secret. Draco is just as ambitious, but he knows nothing. Harry…" Her voice trailed off and she looked thoughtful. "He is scared. If anything, that should keep him from telling what little he may know. I still don't see why you can't handle Harry yourself. You would be able to get to him better than anyone else."

"I am doing what I can to stay above suspicion, Bella," he responded. "If anything happens to my stepson, I have to have an alibi. Lucius's contacts are far better able to protect him than me, if there is a choice."

She shook her head. "That won't make a difference if the origin of the curse is ever traced to you. If Harry remembers anything about what happened Sunday, it's only a matter of time before he runs to the strongest person who could protect him. Or before the Minister gets something out of him."

"You're assuming Dumbledore hasn't already gotten to him," Snape said quietly.

"Why would he?"

"You said it yourself, the old man is suspicious. I'm sure he recognized the method of the attack. His memory is long and not faulty. If someone was able to get to Harry quickly enough the other day to save him, I'm sure he knows enough to start his investigation. First, he'll be looking at anyone connected to James personally. Then, he'll look to anyone who may have been close to him then or who is close to Harry now, assuming he isn't foolish enough to believe it all a coincidence."

"And then he'll find you?"

"No." Snape waved his left arm in front of his face. The shiny black mask of a Death Eater appeared. He waved his arm in the other direction and it disappeared. "He'll find the enemy he is looking for."

* * *

The low fussing of the portraits failed to break into McGonagall's thoughts. A night of fitful sleep had done nothing to calm the anger that had left her shaking when she had retired into her quarters the night before. It was all she could do to not hex Severus in the middle of the Great Hall, to stand in impotent fury as he sat next to her place at the staff table and ate as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Of all people, she should've known he was capable of it. She had personally separated James and his friends from run-ins with Severus and other Slytherins when they attended Hogwarts, forcing them to serve detention together until they had appeared to get the childish pranks out of their systems a year or two before graduating. She, as had everyone else, had believed that Severus Snape had forgotten and forgiven all when the time had come to save his old rival's life. They had even become friends. To think that he was behind what had happened to James then and was happening to Harry now…

She stared through the window, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts. She had promised Harry her protection and would give it, however much it pained her to not take immediate action. There were no words for how she felt now that she knew the truth behind the mask he'd been wearing for years. But, in spite of her own anger, she could not turn him over to Dumbledore just yet. She would rather find the proof that would condemn him beyond all doubt and let the Dementors give Severus a final goodbye. Turning him over to Dumbledore would result in a quick end, one she felt he did not deserve.

McGonagall's fists clenched tightly. No, Severus Snape would reach a more painful end than the one he had inflicted on James and his son. And if the courts did not serve him a well-deserved piece of justice, she and Lily would.

* * *

The moment he'd gotten on the broom, Harry felt the problems weighing on his shoulders melt away bit by bit. By the time he'd gotten over the Quidditch pitch, nothing mattered to him but feeling the wind in his hair and closing his hand around the Snitch in record time. An hour later, when the tryouts were over and Angelina reluctantly replaced Dean with Harry as the new Seeker, he felt a sense of elation that hadn't been there in so long, he hardly recognized the feeling for what it was.

As he received congratulations from the other team members and a few of the spectators, Harry spotted Hermione standing just outside the boundaries of the field, near the tunnel that lead to the locker room. A cold feeling in his stomach quickly replaced the happiness he'd been feeling and he took a series of deep breaths, waiting until everyone had gone to change or started walking back to the castle before he finally approached her.

"I know what you're going to say."

"No, you don't," Hermione said. Her eyes dropped from his face and she fidgeted as she continued. "I know what I feel is strong, but it doesn't give me the right to tell you what you should feel. It took me a long time to convince myself of that, but I can't force you to do anything because it's what I want." She looked up at him, an uncertain frown tugging down at her mouth and creasing her forehead. "I'm sorry."

Of all the things he had expected Hermione to say, this was the last of them. He'd thought sure she would continue throwing herself at him until he gave in or throw a tantrum until he admitted he was feeling more than he'd said the night before. He had misjudged her as he had so many other situations recently. Knowing this would've been the result of any earlier conversation, he immediately felt bad about avoiding her the entire day.

"I'm sorry too," he said. "I never wanted to make you feel like I don't care, if that's how you feel."

"Oh, it's not," Hermione responded. She gave him a small smile. "I think if you didn't care at least a little bit, you would've just said yes and that would have been a shame."

"A shame?"

"Yes." She stepped closer. Close enough that he could smell the faint scent of peaches. "Because when you do change your mind, you'll find it will be so much better when the feeling's mutual. In the meantime, I'll try to control myself around you." She cleared her throat and blushed when Harry laughed. "Of course, we'll still be forced to pretend to be very close, for the sake of the investigation."

"Of course," Harry said. His put his arms around her and rubbed her back slowly. He was glad he couldn't feel as much of her curves as he normally would through all the padding he had to wear for Quidditch. He might have said no the night before, but the little control he'd exhibited had been quite close to breaking. She had no idea that her pushy routine was probably more an incentive than a hindrance. It was that whole in-love-with-the-other-guy-she-can't-be-more-than-a-friend thing that had gotten in the way. Harry could never let Hermione know how close she'd come to making him forget all of that. She would definitely try again. He didn't know if he'd be strong enough to resist a second time.

"So," she began. Harry felt the warmth of her breath on his neck and shivered. "Does this mean we're still working together?"

"Yes, of course. You're the only person I can trust to work with me on this." He looked down and locked eyes with her. "I think you're the only person smart enough to figure out this entire mystery. If you can figure out what Snape did, you'll be able to save my life." He didn't have to spell out for her what that might mean. Her sudden smile said everything.

"You know, I was surprised when Ron said you came down here. I thought you were just talking about Quidditch tryouts to get Professor Snape out of the conversation."

Harry shrugged. "I was, sort of. But once I thought about it, I realized it's a good idea. If—well, when we get everything sorted out, I want my life back to normal. My classes will be sorted out and I'll be able to play and fix everything that's broken now."

"Everything?" she asked.

Harry nodded and she leaned up to kiss him then, squeezing tighter against him as he responded. A few seconds later, he pushed her away. "Hermione. You can't do that."

She turned and began walking towards the school. "What?" she asked over her shoulder. "I was just congratulating you on making the House team." She started to walk backwards, smiling. "Just wait till you see what you get when you've won your first game. I'll grab the parchment and meet you in the Room of Requirement after you've changed." A minute later she was gone and Harry was cursing himself for being three kinds of fool. He _had_ done the right thing, he knew that, even if she was giving him reason to regret it.


	20. Discovery

The minute Lily and his daughter stepped through the Floo and into his office, Severus Snape thought two things. The first, that he didn't give a damn what Dumbledore found out as long as the end result was what he wanted. The second, that everything he'd gone through over the years would be worth it if his wife and daughter were the reward. Despite being a growing pain in his life, even his intrusive stepson could not take this away from him.

He enfolded Lily in a hug first and kissed her briefly, searching her eyes for any sign that she had changed her mind about them. She closed her eyes quickly and embraced him tighter. "Is Bathilda well?" he asked.

Lily smiled nervously and stepped back. One hand fiddled with a lock of her hair as she said, "She is as well as can be expected. The doctors think her physical injuries will probably take another month to heal. And then we'll see."

_We'll see, indeed_, Snape thought. _We'll see if my marriage can withstand the incessant meddling of that brat and the coming change in power_. Pushing the thoughts away, Snape turned to the little girl that stood next to the fireplace brushing ash from her jeans.

He squatted with his arms open wide, his first true smile in ages crossing his face when Raven looked up at him. She ran into his arms and almost knocked him over in her enthusiasm, giggling when her father squeezed her tight.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" he asked.

She grinned. She liked this game. "This much?" Raven held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. Snape shook his head. She pulled back from the circle of his arms and held her arms out to their full length. "This much?"

He shook his head again and pulled out his wand. In the air, he conjured a small glass globe. Inside, the darkness of space floated inside, planets and moons whirled on their axes and stars shone in the heavens. Snape held up the globe so Raven could see the worlds living inside. "I missed you from the ends of this universe and into the next and I love you ten times as much." His daughter's arms came around him again and he caught Lily's smile over her shoulder.

Raven pulled away and smiled, her round eyes twinkling. "What about Mummy?"

Snape found himself smiling wider, an unusual feeling. "I don't know if it's possible," he whispered, "but I might love Mummy even more."

"What about Harry?" the child pressed.

Snape stood abruptly, not wanting his daughter to see his quick scowl. "There are no words to describe how I feel about him. Shall we go to breakfast?" Lily nodded and, grabbing their daughter's hand, led the way to the Great Hall.

* * *

"This has got to be one of the coolest things I've ever seen," Hermione said, turning the Marauder's Map. "And you said the Weasley twins have one?"

Harry nodded. "I got mine from them, but in this time, they would still have theirs. Where is Snape?"

"In the Great Hall with your mum and Raven." She shifted it again. "No one is in the part of the dungeons around his office right now. We can look there before we look at his living quarters." She refolded the parchment and tapped it with her wand. "Mischief managed."

Harry tried not to laugh at her expression as the Map cleared itself. If she was impressed with that, he couldn't wait till she saw some of his memories from their first few years at Hogwarts. Wordlessly, she slipped her hand into his and they made their way from the first floor to the dark, cool hallway outside Snape's office, careful to avoid the few students walking the halls that early. Hermione pulled out the Map to check it again.

"I don't see anyone, except a couple of Slytherins in their common room. Everyone else is still asleep."

Harry nodded. "Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they walked out of Snape's office. Hermione began pacing back and forth in the isolated hall, her arms crossed tight against her chest. Harry leaned against the relocked door, his eyes closed as he considered their search options.

"You're sure we checked every possible inch of that office? There's not a hidden compartment or a safe or something we might have missed?"

Hermione sighed. "The only documents in there are the essays we turned in Thursday and papers from other classes. No compartments, no loose floor boards, no concealments that I can find. I tried every spell I could think of. There's nothing hidden in there."

Harry banged his head against the door once, causing Hermione to jump. "Tell me we're doing the right thing. Tell me this isn't going to be for nothing. If we can't find anything on him, I'm going to get in trouble for using the Time-Turner with nothing to bargain against it. I have to tell McGonagall the rest of the story soon." He opened his eyes. "Unless you think I can get away with not saying anything."

Hermione frowned. "Not likely, Harry. Even if you wanted to wait, you don't really have that option. We are doing the right thing. He tried to kill you." She stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "If we can find proof of what he did to you or what he was trying to hide, I'm sure the Ministry will go easy on you. You did say Dumbledore likes you."

"He did," Harry corrected. "He's coming to see me soon and if I don't have some answers for him, I'll be in more trouble than I already am."

"We can't let that happen. None of this is your fault."

Harry frowned. "You can't really believe that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You didn't make him come after you. If he wasn't doing something that needed to be hidden from your mum—"

"Okay. All right. What now?"

"His living quarters." Hermione pulled the Map from her jeans and searched the dungeons again. "It's still empty." She scanned the Map. "They're in the courtyard now."

"Good. Hopefully my mum will keep him out there till we meet her for lunch."

Hermione closed the Map and slipped it back into her pocket. "Are you sure you're up for this? You seem really upset."

Without answering, he pushed away from the wall and turned to walk down the hall and around the corner. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Hermione was following, he unlocked the door to Snape's living quarters and they snuck inside.

An hour later, Harry swore in frustration. "Check the Map again."

"Harry! I just—"

"Please, just check it again," he said. He looked around the front room one last time while Hermione consulted the Map. "This has been a waste of time."

"It has not." Hermione folded the map and slipped it back into her pocket. "We know he doesn't keep anything hidden here. That means—"

"It means he could have nothing incriminating."

"Yes," she said. "It also means he could just be keeping it at the house. Is there anywhere else we can look? We could try Professor Lestrange's office next."

"No, they made it clear she didn't have anything that needed to be hidden. She gave _him_ something of value." Harry started for the door, then froze in place. "But we could try Potions storage. He always kept that room locked against students. Now that he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, it's the last place anyone would look for something belonging to him. And it's our last hope. If there's not some evidence there—"

"Then we'll have to go to the house. Tomorrow."

Harry caught Hermione's gaze with his own after she made the suggestion. "We can't get caught leaving the school grounds. I know McGonagall's on our side, but if Snape catches us leaving or finds out where we went, we'll be worse off than we are now."

Hermione reached for the door. "Remind me why we can't just tell Professor McGonagall we're searching the school. She could help us."

"Or she could stop us," Harry said. He locked the door and glanced up and down the hallway. He grabbed Hermione's hand and they headed for the private storage room. "She may want to protect me, but that doesn't mean she'll be okay with us going through his things. She'll probably think it would be safer if she did it."

"She'd be right," Hermione said. When they reached the door, Hermione tried three separate spells to unlock the door, with no success.

"Let me try," Harry said. "Hopefully it means something that this door has extra protections on it." He pulled out the knife Sirius had given him and slipped the blade between the door and jamb. He slid the blade up until there was an audible click and the door popped open. Taking one last look around the hall, Harry pulled Hermione into the storage room behind him and closed the door.

They stood in the middle of the room, staring at the towering rows of shelves.

"Where would be the easiest place to hide a concealing door? It looks like nothing but shelves of bottles," Harry said. He blew the dust off the bottle closest to him on a shelf. "And it doesn't look as if anyone's been in here in ages."

Hermione turned in a circle slowly, surveying the room. She smiled. "I have an idea." She performed a Summoning Charm on the stepladder in the far corner of the room and climbed to the top step, craning her neck to look at the bottles on the top shelves. "Push me, Harry." He began moving the stepladder around.

"Are you sure you can see up there?" He looked up and then looked down again quickly. _At least she's wearing jeans and not a skirt_, he thought.

"I'm fine…stop!" Hermione jumped up and down on the top step and squealed. "There's a place behind these bottles that's completely clear of dust. It's the only clean spot on the shelves. Let me see if there's anything back here." She pushed a few of the bottles to the side and then pulled out her wand, whispering every counter spell she knew for reversing concealment. After a couple of minutes, a recess appeared in the wall behind the shelves. "There's something here, Harry."

He looked up at the excitement in her voice.

"I'm not tall enough. Get me higher," Hermione said. Harry levitated her slowly, careful not to bump her into any of the bottles on the shelves. Hermione reached back behind the shelf, strain turning her face bright red. After a minute, her fingers closed around something in the dark and she pulled back. Harry lowered her to the top of the ladder and she climbed the rest of the way down, a thick notebook of parchment held tightly in one arm.

Wordlessly, they sat on the floor together and opened the notebook.

"_Soul division theory?_ What kind of book is this?" Hermione began flipping through the pages quickly, stopping when she saw a picture of a red stone and a description of its properties. "The Philosopher's Stone? Elixir of…I can't read this writing."

"Elixir of Life. It's what Voldemort wanted to live off of first year," Harry said. "It makes the drinker immortal." He pulled the notebook closer to himself and turned back to the front page. "I'm not sure, but this looks like Dumbledore's handwriting." He shook his head. "I haven't looked at it in years, but I think it is." He looked at Hermione. "If this is what Snape and Lucius Malfoy have been hiding, it's possible they've been trying to help him get another body."

"That's impossible! It's…"

"It's not impossible if the Philosopher's Stone is still in Gringotts and they can get to it. And if they know where Voldemort is."

Hermione stood from the floor and began siphoning dust from her jeans and shirt. "I don't understand. If You-Know-Who's not in a physical body, how can anyone know where he is? How can he talk to anyone?"

Harry shrugged and stood. "I don't know. From what Voldemort said, he convinced Quirrell to let him possess him. He didn't just take over his body. It's not possible he's done that again, is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I saw him just before a class yesterday. He seemed normal. A little dippy, but otherwise the same. No turban or any other concealments. With the exception of Professor Lestrange and Professor Snape, everyone else is acting normal as well." She started to pace back and forth in the room, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip. "But if he's not possessing a teacher, what would Professor Snape, Mr. Malfoy and Professor Lestrange need with this information? What good would it do them if they didn't have the soul that needs a body? Or would it even classify as a soul? It sounds like it would be something else altogether. Something—"

"Something less than human," Harry said. "Voldemort mentioned something like that in the graveyard."

"And why would any of this be in Dumbledore's handwriting? Why would he ever need to know any of this stuff?"

"He was doing research on Voldemort for years. That must be why he knew to hide the Philosopher's Stone in the school." Harry grabbed Hermione's arm, halting her nervous pacing. "Maybe that's why he sent the Auror to search the school. He's looking for this." Harry held up the notebook. "If we can tell him Snape stole it, would that be enough to get him sent to Azkaban?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Stealing isn't enough to get someone sent there for very long, if we could even prove it was stolen. For all we know Dumbledore left it here three years ago and it was hidden so students wouldn't find it. Plus, Professor Snape isn't teaching Potions, so he would have no reason to hide something in this room. We can't prove he was going to do anything with the information."

"I don't care," Harry said. "It's the only bargaining chip I have right now. He's coming either today or tomorrow and I'm going to give this to him."  
"Harry, no!" Hermione shook her head. "We can't take it anywhere. Dumbledore has to find it where we did. We'll just tell him where it is."

"No, I want to read it before we turn it over." Harry glanced at his watch. "We can't stay down here all day, my mum's going to start wondering where we are soon."

"We'll make a copy, then."

"A what?"

Hermione smiled. "You grew up in the Muggle world. You've heard of a copy machine?"

"Yes, but that won't work here."

She rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand. "Honestly, you never read your school books, do you?" Waving her wand in mid-air, Hermione conjured a stack of blank parchment. "Hold the notebook open," she said.

Harry turned it to the first page. He watched in fascination as Hermione waved her wand over the sheet, muttered an incantation and a duplicate of the words on the page lifted into the air. She transferred them onto a blank sheet of parchment.

"It's the easiest way to transfer information without having to write it down. It won't last forever, though. We'll have to do a Binding spell to keep the words from fading after a while. Our copy should last a few months."

"Hermione, you're a genius."

She smiled and blushed at his words. "It's simple, really." She leaned over to look at Harry's watch. "You'll have to do this with me so we can make it to lunch on time. Be careful to keep the pages in order. I'll do the Binding spells."

With that, they sat on the floor and copied the notebook, page for page. Afterwards, Harry sat staring at the stack of pages they'd copied, smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm surprised people don't do this with their homework."

"Besides the handwriting and writing style issues, there's the obvious drawback of professors who can do magic as well. They'd be able to pick up on the spell easily and then both students would probably get detention for the rest of the year or worse." She stood and stepped back onto the stepladder. "Help me up again?"

After she replaced the book, reinforced the concealment and moved the bottles back into place, Hermione stacked their copied parchments, shrank them, and stuck them into the front pocket of her jeans.

"There. We should be able to sneak upstairs without anyone noticing these. We can start going through this stuff as soon as your mum leaves."

They opened the door and went back into the hallway. Harry took out the knife and jiggled it in the lock until he heard it click into place. Before they could get down the hall to the stairs, they heard voices around the corner.

"Crap, we forgot to check the Map," Harry said.

Hermione flattened herself against the wall and pulled Harry close to her by his shirt. Leaning up, she pulled him down into a kiss.

Harry broke away quickly. "What are you doing?"

"Stop talking!" She pulled his head down again and moved her lips firmly on his, encouraged when he began kissing her back. Of their own accord, or so Harry would tell himself later, his hands moved over her hair and down her back, finally settling on her hips as he pulled her closer to him. He opened his mouth to ask another question and Hermione slipped her tongue between his lips, coaxing him into a speechless state that was instead filled with heavy panting as they kissed and touched.

Suddenly, Hermione stiffened against him and Harry pulled back from her, a question in his eyes. "Why'd you stop?" he asked.

"Because you've been caught," a voice from behind him said. Harry whirled around to face Bellatrix Lestrange. A blushing Nymphadora Tonks stood behind her, a small smile on her face.

Harry cleared his throat. "Um…"

"I expect there's a good explanation for the two of you being down here. Not trying to catch up on any more of my assignments, I presume."

"No, professor," Hermione said. "We just…" Her eyes slid to Harry and she put an arm around his waist. "We knew no one would be down here this time of day. We're not in trouble, are we? We just wanted to be alone."

"I can see that," Bellatrix said. "No, you're not in trouble. This time. I do recommend keeping your…urges to a minimum. I'd hate to see two of our brightest students getting expelled for doing something reckless."

Hermione covered her mouth with one hand in shock. Harry had to stop himself from laughing when he realized she was blushing. _Serves her right_, he thought.

"No, Professor. It would not have gone further."

"I should hope you know better, Harry." Bellatrix cocked her head to the side. "Shouldn't you be outside? Your mother's here."  
"Yeah, we were going to meet her—"

"When you were done…dawdling." Bellatrix nodded. "Go. Now."

Grabbing Hermione's hand, Harry pulled her to the end of the hall. He spared a nod for Tonks as he passed by, waiting until they had reached the ground floor before he stopped and leaned against the wall, laughing.

"What is so funny? We were almost caught. You heard her. We could've been expelled!"

"Only if we'd finished what we'd started the other night."

Hermione closed her mouth then, her next words dying unsaid.

"There is a bright side to that episode."

"What?" Hermione asked. "That it wasn't your stepfather?"

"That too. But now that she sees I'm firmly taken, maybe she'll stop being so overly friendly with me."

Hermione stared at him for a moment before she burst into laughter as well. "Come on," she said after a while. "Let's hide the papers upstairs. You need to meet your sister."


	21. Communication

As they walked across the courtyard, Harry unexpectedly felt butterflies filling his stomach. He squeezed Hermione's hand unconsciously, nervous about meeting his younger sister for the first time. He didn't know why he was nervous. She was just a child, after all. If he could meet his mother without losing all nerve, a little sister who adored him shouldn't be too much more intimidating.

As they approached the table, Lily stood from one of the stone benches and welcomed first Hermione then Harry with a warm hug. He lingered in his mother's embrace. After the week he had, he didn't feel silly about needing a hug from her. He needed the reassurance that what he'd done wasn't for nothing and that all of the results of his actions had not come to disaster. When he realized Hermione was smiling at the picture they made, he released his mother, smiling as she ruffled his hair with one hand and slipped an arm around him.

"How has school been this week?" Lily asked. "I know the first week is always hectic, but the first O.W.L. year takes some getting used to."

Harry leaned his head against his mother's shoulder. "You have no idea. This week has been crazy. I'm so glad I could see you today."

She squeezed him close. "The professors were rough in my years too, but it's because they want you to really put in the work. It's the best way to learn. I'm sure you and Hermione will both do well once you get used to the new schedules and the increase in course difficulty." She held her other arm out and Hermione slipped under it. "How have you two been?"

"Great," they said simultaneously. Hermione giggled. "We've managed to get a lot of work done this week and still spend time together," she said.

"Time spent in well-lit, occupied areas?" Lily enquired.

At this, Harry blushed and pulled out of his mother's hug. "I promise nothing has happened that you would get too upset about."

Lily nodded, a knowing smile lighting her face briefly. "Right. That's what you said last term. Just make sure you keep the majority of your focus on your studies."

Hermione giggled again and then looked around. "Where are Professor Snape and Raven?"

"My husband had business to attend to," Lily said. "I don't think he'll be joining us for lunch. Raven went to the bathroom. She's been dying to see you, Harry."

"I want to see her too," he responded truthfully. "I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for this weekend to come."

"Aw, Harry, I'm sorry this week has been so hard on you," Lily said. "If you're really having trouble with the work, I'm sure your teachers would be more than happy to help you with the assignments. You can always write to me if you have a question."

"It's not the work, Mum." He glanced at Hermione and noted that her bright smile had dropped. "Snape has been—"

"Harry, you could at least refer to your stepfather as 'Professor' before you go on to disrespect him."

Harry frowned in response to this. Hermione left Lily's side to put an arm around him.

"Professor Snape has just been giving Harry a harder time than usual lately." Hermione looked up at him and smiled. "He can handle it. Don't listen if he says otherwise, he's just having difficulty dealing with things for now. It'll get better as we all settle into our routines."

"But, Hermione, he—"

"Harry, it's not important," she said. She raised her eyebrows for emphasis. "I'm sure your mum would like to talk about happier things than your ongoing feud with your stepfather. Besides, he's not even here. I'm sure he did that so the two of you wouldn't fight in front of us."

"He's not avoiding Harry," Lily said. "He told me he had some things to take care of and it might take him a while to get back. But, while we're on the subject of the two of you not getting along, I do think we should talk about your attitude, Harry."

At Hermione's urging, he sat at the small table across from his mother, with Hermione at his side.

"You can't keep going on this way," Lily said. Her eyes dropped to the table and she began playing with the tip of her wand. "I know you're concerned about him, about us, but there's no reason to continue provoking disagreements with him. He told me you were defensive with him earlier this week when all he was trying to do was ask how things were going. Professor McGonagall had to pull you out of class this week and you didn't feel like you could come to him about it?"

Harry gasped. "I was not in trouble if that's what you were thinking. She was concerned that I didn't feel well Sunday and wanted to check on me. And she wanted to talk about how Professor Snape is treating me. It's not all in my head, Mum."

"I didn't say it was." Lily's eyes started to fill with tears. Hermione's hand slipped into his as his mother continued. "He only has so much patience when you won't give him any leeway." She wiped at a falling tear. "This is hard on me, you must know that. I've tried for years to get the two of you to get along, but you never seem to put in the effort." Lily's hand moved to cover Harry's other hand on the table. "He loves you as much as I do. If you would only try."

"I can't. I will never accept him as a part of our lives." He pulled his hand away from hers. "I will never see him as my father. I will not rest until you've left that man."

"Harry!" Hermione glared at him as his mother began to cry harder. "What is wrong with you? Can't you see this isn't the time?"

"It's all right, Hermione," Lily said. She wiped her eyes quickly and fanned her flushed face with her hand. "I'm sure he told you everything over the summer and this past week. These little outbursts are commonplace now, aren't they?" She looked at Harry, sadness weighing on her face. "I just wish you would grow out of this stage. This paranoia is pointless and you must see how it's hurting me. Don't you care about that?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Of course I care how it's making you feel, but I can't just pretend like everything is right with him. It's not a stage I'm going through. He was never the right man for you and you'll be much better off without him. We all will."

This earned him another glare from Hermione.

"Would you be happy with anyone I'm with? Tell the truth, Harry. You'd rather me be alone with you and Raven as my sole focus. There isn't anyone who's good enough for me, is there?"

"Dad was," Harry responded.

Lily's mouth dropped open and she let out a small garbled cry.

"Stop, please, both of you. Raven is coming," Hermione said.

Harry turned in the direction Hermione was looking. In no time at all, his eyes caught the small body running across the grass towards them. She was a little skinny and prettier than Harry would've expected any child of Snape's to be. Probably because she took after their mother. When she stopped next to the table, Harry immediately thought she resembled a six-year-old female version of himself complete with his mother's eyes and the thick, dark hair they had inherited from their respective fathers. While his hair was a perpetual mess, hers hadn't quite attained the greasy look that had become her father's trademark. It fell in loose waves to just above her waist and appeared to be covered with glitter.

Grinning, the little girl climbed into his lap and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. His arms came around her in a hug. "I missed my Harry-bear." She snuggled into his chest then and Harry grinned, catching his mother's eyes across the table. She was smiling at them faintly, all traces of her few tears gone.

"Hi, Raven," he said. She stiffened and looked up at him, her bottom lip pushed out in a pout.

"Hi, Katie-pie," Hermione said from beside them. Raven ignored her.

"Harry, what's wrong? You never call me that. I've always been your Katie-pie," she said in a soft voice.

"I-I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Harry hasn't been feeling well," Hermione put in. Harry smile gratefully at her. "He didn't mean anything by it, sweetie. He probably just needs more rest."

Raven smiled at Hermione before returning her regard to Harry. "I hope you feel better," she said solemnly. "If you get real sick, you'll have to come home so I can take care of you."

Harry smiled at her serious remark. "I might just take you up on that," he said.

"Why haven't you been feeling well?" Lily asked. She turned her head to the side slightly and Harry knew she was looking at his scar again. "I didn't think you were a hundred percent the other day, but you assured me you were fine."

As Raven turned to look up at him again, Harry said, "Don't worry about it, it's just stress."

Lily pursed her lips together into a thin line at this, but said nothing.

"Harry's probably still exhausted from his Quidditch tryout yesterday," Hermione said, her enthusiastic voice ringing out over the silent table. "Everyone said they'd never seen anyone move that fast, especially on a school broom. He's going to be a great Seeker." Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'm really proud of you."

"Me too," Raven said. "I'm going to come for your first match and make sure you win." Harry laughed and squeezed his sister.

"I'm proud of you as well, Harry," Lily said. "I'm sure your father would be too." She cleared her throat and looked away then, fumbling with her robe. "I think it's time for lunch." She pulled a coin from her pocket and placed it on the table. "Everyone watch your hands. Sev tells me the Hogwarts kitchens have prepared something special for us." Lily tapped the coin with her wand and a few seconds later, lunch for four appeared on the table.

* * *

Severus Snape stood silent in the middle of the clearing. This was a part of the forest seldom traveled by anyone, or anything, as darker creatures tended to inhabit the area of the forest furthest away from the castle. Snape's eyes were closed, his body unmoving as he opened his senses to take in the subtle sounds that would be just audible over the wind. After several minutes of waiting, Snape heard the whispering hiss that signaled his arrival. He opened his eyes and acknowledged the snake at his feet with a short nod.

"I see you've had to change bodies again," he said. He knelt down and raised the snake on level with his eyes. "I apologize for that, my Lord. We are still attempting to recover the Key, but it will take some time."

Snape felt a sharp pain behind his eyes before Voldemort said, "Your continued failure angers me, Severus. I expected more from you."

He waited until the sound of hissing faded from his mind before responding. "Lucius's contact in the Department of Mysteries is researching the existence of a duplicate copy of the formula. Without it, we can still proceed with the extractions, but attempting to finish the reformation without the exact formula may result in…unfortunate circumstances. None of us wishes to cause you further pain."

"Why are there so many delays? If Lucius cannot do his part adequately, you will have to bring me to him. I can give him the proper motivation."

"My Lord, we are attempting to avoid the scrutiny of the Ministry. We could resolve the issue faster by using Dumbledore's memory to recreate—" A loud hiss interrupted his words and Snape stuttered to a halt as Voldemort used Legilimency again.

"Extracting a memory forcibly from Dumbledore will draw attention we do not need. I wish to surprise him when I am ready. Do as much as you can until the Key is recovered. In the meantime, proceed with the extractions. I shall expect results before long. Or I will take action personally."

Snape shuddered briefly as the thought of Voldemort possessing his body, even temporarily, to carry out their plan flashed quickly through his mind. Perhaps he could convince him to control Lucius that way instead. Malfoy could do with a bit of heavy-handed guidance.

"What of the boy?" Voldemort asked. "There is a child with the Key?"

Snape cursed himself silently. He'd forgotten to block that particular memory. "Th-there is a small possibility of my stepson knowing where it is, but I do not—"

"Kill him," Voldemort said. "Get it back at any cost. I expect to be out of this body in a reasonable amount of time, Severus. And not to inhabit another snake. You shall be rewarded for your service, but if you cannot do as you are bid…" Several quick images flashed through Snape's brain, his worst imaginings, things he knew were quite possible if Voldemort was not restored to body soon and resorted to taking over his.

Knowing their conversation was at a close, Snape lowered the snake to the ground and turned to walk through the forest back to Hogwarts.

* * *

An hour after they'd finished lunch, Harry and Lily sat laughing as they watched Raven and Hermione twirling in circles in the courtyard. Raven held Harry's wand, giggling as purple bubbles shot out from it in long streams. Hermione was filling the air with pink bubbles from her own wand. Before, Harry might have felt the way they were drawing attention from other students was embarrassing, but in recent memory, he couldn't recall a time when he'd seen Hermione laugh and smile so much. And to watch his sister…it still seemed nothing short of a miracle that he had someone else he could love as much as his mother. She was nothing like her other parent, but Harry didn't see how he could've held it against her if she were. As he could well remember, children had no choice over the type of people who raised them.

"I think it's time for us to go," Lily called.

The three children made noises of dissent at the same time. "One more hour, Mum," Harry pleaded. "We've hardly had time together."

"Yes," Raven said, climbing into his lap. "One more hour."

"I'm sorry guys," Lily said. "I asked your father to let me know when it's almost four so I can get back to Bathilda. He's coming now."

Harry looked up and frowned as his stepfather made his way towards them.

"Oh, I forgot to ask earlier. How is she?" Hermione asked.

"Better, but still not a hundred percent," Lily responded. She turned to her son as she stood. "Don't look so sad, Harry. We'll try to stay longer next time."

"Can we stay the whole weekend?" Raven asked. She jumped up to stand next to her mother and tugged on her arm. "I promise I'll be extra good."

"I'm sure you will be," Lily said as Snape finally reached them. "We'll try to make plans later. Bye sweetie," she said, leaning over the kiss Harry on the forehead. She brushed her fingers over his scar. "Get this scratch looked at Harry." Turning, she joined Raven in hugging Hermione goodbye.

Snape watched the entire scene from a few feet away, arms crossed, not quite frowning.

"Oh! Before I forget." Lily turned back to her son. "We've got to go shopping for a racing broom. Isn't it wonderful that Harry's made the House team, Sev?"

He cleared his throat, startled at being addressed. "It is something of an achievement for him," he said coolly.

Lily started to respond to him but addressed Harry instead. "I want you to think about what model you want. I know there are catalogs with—"

"A Firebolt," Harry responded. He grinned as his mother gasped. "It'll be perfect for me."

She shook her head, laughing at his expensive request. "We'll see. If things keep going well at school, I'll think about it. Stay on top of everything, Harry."  
"I intend to," he said. Harry stood as Raven came over to him for a final goodbye hug. "I'm going to miss you."

She squeezed tight around his middle, her eyes closed. "I love you my Harry-bear."

"I love you my Katie-pie." After one last squeeze, she released him and walked off with Lily and Snape, back into the castle.

Harry stood watching them until they were gone from sight. They really hadn't spent enough time together. He knew he'd feel that way even if they had stayed the entire weekend. He was never going to get tired of having a loving family around him, even if the whole school could see them playing around together.

"Hermione, is there a reason I call her Katie-pie? She was really upset when I didn't."

Hermione walked over to where he stood, twirling a lock of her hair with one hand. "Sorry, I had completely forgotten about the name thing or I would've told you. Raven's middle name is Kathleen. You gave it to her. You've been calling her Katie-pie since she was born."

"Am I the only one?"

"She only answers to it from you." Hermione shrugged. "Well, me too sometimes, starting last year."

"Is there a reason I never call her Raven?" Harry asked.

She smiled. "Her father gave her that name and you've always hated it."

"Does it bother him that I call her something else?"

She giggled, knowing where this was going. "It does annoy him a bit."

Harry smiled and put an arm around Hermione as they made their way back into the castle. "That is a good enough reason for me."


	22. Solution

Hermione sat with the book of counter spells balanced on her lap, a few choice curse words coming out every few minutes in between spells that had no affect on the parchment in her hand. Harry had given up attempting to help her with the task and settled into reading the pages of Dumbledore's collected notes. Hermione was determined to do it herself, even if she had to look through every spell book in the library before she was through. He didn't have the heart to suggest that it might be something only a Death Eater could open, something connected to the Dark Mark.

"Oh, honestly!" Harry looked up at Hermione's outburst. "Ignore me. I'm going to try something stupid." Pointing her wand at the parchment, she said, "_Imperio__. Specialis Revelio_." As they watched, the parchment began to glow a bright blue, almost blinding in its intensity. The glow receded after a few seconds. Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Hermione said, "_Specialis__ Terminus_," and the glow faded completely. Leaning closer, Harry saw that words were appearing on the suddenly aged parchment line by line, similar to the way Tom Riddle had responded to his writing in the diary.

Hermione frowned as the parchment filled with writing. "Why would anyone put a concealment requiring an Unforgivable Curse on a piece of parchment?"

Harry shrugged. "Because no one would ever think to try it."

She glared at him.

"Relax, Hermione. You did a great job."

She sighed and lay her head back on the sofa. "It just seems entirely too simple now that I think about it. It's like a password. Why didn't I try that before?"

"Honestly?" he asked. "Because it seemed too simple. You never take the easy way out of things."

"I'm going to pretend that was a compliment." She lifted the parchment to eye level and squinted at the small writing. "The bottom of this looks like a potion. All that work for this?" She dropped the page to her lap. "Maybe it was all a waste of time."

"I doubt it. Whatever it is, it's not invaluable. Snape and Bellatrix want it back badly for a reason." He picked up the parchment and began reading out loud. "_The Key to Displaced Soul Restoration._ _Though there have been several experiments, none can be proven…effective_," Harry read, squinting at the slanting writing. "_This is the closest approximation of a Restoration Potion, but cannot be considered definitive. Some of the ingredients must be specific to the intended soul. Particular care must be given to the amount of blood and the purity of the source, which may determine the success of fusion. Experiments may be performed on ghosts to_…I can't read the next few words."

Hermione stared at him briefly before snatching the paper from his hand. "This doesn't make any sense," she said, scanning the page. "Experimenting on a ghost? I didn't think there was any magic that could bring back the dead."

"There isn't as far as anyone knows. The parchment says it's not definitive," Harry said. "All of these notes are full of stuff relating to Voldemort. He's not really dead. He's not even really in spirit form. I don't know what he is." Harry eyed the parchment again. "Maybe Dumbledore thought experimenting on a ghost was okay because they can't feel it. Besides, if it can work on a soul belonging to a truly dead person—"

"It can work on You-Know-Who," Hermione supplied. "Then what was all the stuff in here about soul division and," she glanced at the page Harry had been reading, "the benefits of blood protection?"

Harry shrugged and shuffled the notes, putting them back in order. "I think Dumbledore might have been trying to figure out how Voldemort could come back after what he tried to do to Neville. In my time, he seemed quite interested in how Voldemort had gotten another body after Cedric was killed. All of it is related somehow."

"And we're sure Dumbledore wasn't trying to figure out how to bring him back himself?"

"Hermione, you can't be serious. That's the last thing anyone would want. Anyone who isn't a Death Eater."

She threw up her hands in frustration. "Well, I'm sorry, Harry. After all you've told me this week, I really don't know who can be trusted and who can't. It seems anyone could have a dark side," she said quietly. Hermione picked up the Key again. "I mean, look at this list of ingredients. Bone of a blood relative, preferably a close relation; Elixir of Life, Unicorn Blood, Re'em Blood, in equal amounts; human elements are optional. I assume that means some kind of body part or something." She frowned in distaste.

"Dragon's blood, wolfsbane, concentrated mandrake draught, sacrifice of a familiar, pure blood imbued with ancient magic, asphodel in an infusion of wormwood and valerian roots. This is disgusting, Harry. Who experiments with the kind of ingredients in this potion? What kind of person would know how this stuff goes together and be willing to experiment on an innocent soul to see if it worked?"

Harry didn't want to admit to Hermione that her questions were unnerving, but he couldn't help wondering if she could be right. It was one thing to want to prevent Voldemort from coming into a physical body and restarting his campaign to rule the Wizarding world, it was quite another to outline a way in which he could do it and let the instructions fall into the hands of a few of his followers. He hoped there was no chance Dumbledore was involved with Death Eaters, under the Imperius Curse or otherwise, but he had no way of knowing that to be true. He had been a great Headmaster at Hogwarts, but was he equally protective of the Wizarding public once he'd gained power as Minister?

Rather than admit to Hermione that he was concerned, he asked, "Could any of these ingredients be used for other potions? He does admit at the top of the page that this is all just a lot of guesswork. Maybe he was thinking of what could be used as a worse-case scenario. Combinations of other things." He knew he was reaching with that assessment and didn't blame Hermione when she gave him a skeptical look.

"I…suppose. There are twelve uses for dragon's blood. Dumbledore is certainly familiar with all of them," she added unnecessarily. She scanned the list of ingredients again. "I think asphodel and valerian roots are used in a potion together, but I can't place which one right now. I think it's in a more advanced book than the one we're using in class now. Maybe I can find out more about it in the library. I don't see why I should bother though." Hermione cast a pointed glance at Harry.

"This takes over a week to make, according to the instructions," Harry said. He read over the sheet again until he found a line he'd read earlier. "Plus, it can't be completed until the full moon. That's almost 3 weeks away. If this is a part of their plans, we can tell if Bellatrix or Snape are beginning to make this if they're gathering the other ingredients. I'm sure collecting some of this stuff in their offices or living quarters would be easy to track, at least by us. It's not really common to have a lot of this stuff lying around, is it?"

Hermione continued to look skeptical, but she didn't say anything as she placed the Key on top of the other notes.

"My guess is, they can start preparing for it without this, but they can't finish it without the instructions at the bottom. Snape has a good mind for potions," Harry said, "but even he couldn't remember all of these complicated instructions if he's never made it before."

Hermione shook her head and sighed heavily. "If any portion of this is experimental guesswork, why wouldn't Snape just try to make up his own potion? From what you said, he could probably do it."

"I don't know, but if you were him, would you want to experiment with Voldemort's soul with no idea if it would work? This has never been done before. There's no telling what could happen."

"I don't even want to think about it anymore." She rubbed both hands across her eyes. "Can we get out of here for tonight?" She raised her arms over her head and stretched her back. "I have a couple of essays I want to get out of the way before we start on this again tomorrow."

"Yeah, let's go back to the common room. I'm surprised more people in our House haven't commented that we're hardly ever around," Harry said. "Ron certainly noticed when I didn't come back to sleep in the dorm."

"Oh, people have noticed," Hermione said. She stood from the sofa and shrank the stack of parchment Harry held in his hand. "I heard a few spare comments from Parvati about how little sleep I must be getting since I'm _so_ busy. I don't think she was talking about how much homework we have."

Harry smiled. "You never know. With you, she might have been."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to look around the room. "I always feel like I'm leaving something behind or forgetting something in here. I don't know." She turned back to Harry. "What are you going to tell Draco about the parchment? Does he really want to know what his father's up to? Can we trust him not to say anything? We don't have to tell him about your situation."

"No," Harry said without hesitating. "I don't want to tell him the truth. About any of it. Chances are good that if his aunt and father are involved, he's likely to be on their side. I don't care if he and I are supposed to be friends. Besides, Bellatrix mentioned him when she was talking about how to get to me."

"She probably only did that because he's your friend."

"I'll never know if that's true." _Because you interrupted whatever she was saying_, Harry thought. When Hermione frowned, he wondered, not for the first time, if she could read his mind. "I still don't understand why they haven't come after me again or gone through my things."

"I should think it would be obvious," Hermione said. "It'd be one thing if you were attacked at King's Cross, but Hogwarts is far too secure for someone from outside the school to come after you. That leaves other students and professors as suspects. Professor Snape wouldn't be able to cover it up if he or Professor Lestrange did anything to you here. Your mum would never let anything happen to you without investigating it till the end. Never mind that Professor McGonagall would try to find the truth as well, especially now that she knows he's after you. And Dumbledore…wait, are you still planning on telling him what we found?"

Harry paused for a moment. "No. You were right." Hermione smiled smugly after he said this. "I don't know about him. Either he gave them this information, though I hate to believe that, or he let it get stolen. If he _was_ careless with it in some way, that means he doesn't realize how close it is to being used. I can't take that chance. And it's too complicated to explain how we came across everything."

"He's not going to think we stole it, not if I'm right."

"Right about what exactly?"

"Remember when I said I had an idea what the parchment might be? The Minister has had Magical Law Enforcement inspectors searching all over for weeks. They were stopping people outside Gringotts branches from here to France, conducting raids at people's homes, all kinds of things. I can't remember exactly, but there was something taken from somewhere inside the Ministry. I wrote to the _Daily Prophet_ to ask for a few back issues. They described the searches in the paper, but I can't remember what was stolen or where from. I'm willing to bet the Minister is missing a certain notebook of parchment, or at least something connected to it. We'll know for sure when the Prophet gets back to me."

Harry stared at Hermione. He really had underestimated her intelligence. If she had guessed that days ago, without much evidence to support it, she was a hell of a lot smarter than anyone at Hogwarts gave her credit for.

"What?" A soft blush bloomed in her face. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You really are going to save me," Harry said. In a heartbeat, he'd closed the space between them and pulled her into his arms. "I don't know how I could've handled any of this without you." He swallowed hard. He wanted to say more, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Harry was just glad she couldn't see his expression just then. He had the feeling she might read more into it than he was ready for her to think. He still had a lot to consider. A lot that had to be weighed against the possibility that he wouldn't live through this. And a lot that made him want to live so he could realize the full potential of this life.

Hermione eased back from his embrace and looked up at Harry, her eyes wide and vulnerable in the low light. Her lips were parted as she watched the emotion play across his face and he knew she was trying to read him as easily as she did the textbooks stacked in her trunk. She leaned closer to him before pulling back and licking her lips. "What are you thinking about?"

His eyes lit briefly on the bed on the other side of the room and he resolutely closed his eyes. "I…I was thinking Dumbledore should take you to the hospital. If anyone's smart enough to cure me, it's you."

She blinked hard and pulled out of his arms. "What makes you think they need someone else to cure whatever's wrong?" Her eyes dropped from his as she stepped back. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. He knew she was thinking of the person she wished she was with at that moment. The Harry who would've taken the opportunity to kiss her.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I assume that whatever's wrong must be serious if it's kept me in the hospital for almost a week. If I'm even still there. For all I know, I've been released and could be anywhere. Like you said the other night, the whole situation with the Time-Turner is a theory. There's no telling when something happens to me or how. Or even if that was the problem. I can't even think about the possibilities until I find out what's going in the hospital, anyway."

"As long as the other you doesn't show up here, I think you'll be fine. Let's not worry about any other potential problems until we get some of this other stuff resolved. I don't think I have the energy." She grabbed Harry's wrist to look at his watch. "I really do need to get my homework done. Do you think it'll be safer for me to keep the notes and Key in my dorm? You know, in case they do come looking for it."

"I don't know if it'll be safer, but I don't mind it. I'm sure you'll get more done if you can look at everything immediately after you get an idea. Knowing you, the whole thing will be resolved by the middle of next week. Is there anything else we need to do before we leave here?" Harry asked.

Hermione slipped the pages into her pocket and shook her head. "Let's get back to the common room. I can get at least one essay done before dinner."

"I should probably get around to my homework too, if I can even concentrate." All thoughts of completing homework flew from both their minds as they stepped through the portrait hole and spotted the Minister of Magic waiting for Harry.


	23. Villians and Victims

The Minister stood from his chair by the fireplace when they walked in. Instinctively, Hermione stepped closer to Harry, clasping his hand tightly in hers. Dumbledore eyed them both, his cool gaze taking in every detail from their clasped hands to the way Harry took a step forward and moved just slightly in front of Hermione. All three ignored the stares from other students who found the Minister waiting to speak to a student unusual at the very least. Harry began to walk forward cautiously, unsure of what to say when he caught sight of Dumbledore's sober expression.

"Pro—Minister. I wasn't sure if you—"

"We'll need to speak elsewhere, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, his voice even. With a swish of dark blue robes, he stepped past the two students and began making his way towards the portrait hole behind them.

Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly and they turned to go back outside the room. As they stepped over the threshold again, Dumbledore gave Hermione a sharp look.

"Miss Granger, I don't believe your presence will be needed for our discussion."

Before Hermione could respond, Harry said, "I need her with me. She's going to help me tell you everything. And she's going to make sure nothing happens to me."

Hermione looked at him, surprised.

"Ah," the older wizard said. "Professor McGonagall said you were having trouble trusting anyone. I have to say, the feeling is mutual, Mr. Potter." Harry's eyes widened. "I shall permit her presence. For now." With that, he turned and walked down the hall, down a flight of stairs and the next corridor, stopping outside the closest empty classroom. He waited for both students to proceed him inside, then followed. Dumbledore waved an open palm at the door. It slammed shut and sealed itself with a squelching sound and a faint white glow.

Harry stopped breathing momentarily. It now felt as if they were trapped. He could feel Hermione start to tremble as Dumbledore turned and approached them. He sat at one of the tables in the front of the room. Hermione and Harry stood just in front of the teacher's desk, facing him. Wordlessly, Dumbledore conjured two chairs in front of himself and motioned for the two of them to sit.

Pulling Hermione forward, Harry sat in one of the stiff-backed chairs, at a loss as to where to begin his story.

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore said, "Perhaps it would be best to explain exactly how you obtained a Time-Turner."

Harry blinked in surprise. "I didn't steal it or anything. I didn't even use it on purpose the first time. I—"

"Didn't get permission," Dumbledore finished for him. "I remember your excuse from the other day. A fairly creative way to evade the effects of Veritaserum without telling a lie. I expect to hear your story from the beginning."

_From when Voldemort killed my parents?_ Harry thought.

"Pardon me, sir," Hermione began. "But the story is rather complicated and…long."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers on top of the table in front of him. "I am sure Mr. Potter will find the time to explain everything if it means avoiding Azkaban. Dinner can be brought in. Beds if necessary," Dumbledore said, raising one eyebrow. "Whenever you are ready, Mr. Potter."

Hermione squeezed his hand again and he shot her a grateful look.

"I'm going to start by saying none of this is going to make any sense. You'll know why, of course," Harry said. Dumbledore nodded but said nothing. "The first time, I used the Time-Turner accidentally. I changed something in my past. Something big. The second time was my attempt to get back to the right date, which did not go as planned." Harry had to stop himself from visibly flinching at the understatement.

"Go on, Harry," Hermione said. "I'll help you if you need me to."

He nodded and looked Dumbledore in the eye as he said, "The year I turned one, Voldemort killed my parents."

At this, Dumbledore sat up straight in his seat. His eyes narrowed on Harry's face as he continued.

"He was after me. I've never heard a full explanation for why he tried to kill me, but I suspect it was because of a prophecy that had been made."

Dumbledore turned pale and leaned back in his chair again, the corners of his mouth turned down in a slight frown.

"I was raised by my mum's sister Petunia and her husband, both Muggles. They told me my parents died in a car crash. I had no idea I was a wizard until Hagrid delivered my Letter." In response to the question in Dumbledore's eyes, Harry added, "My uncle Vernon kept throwing away the Letters."

"At the beginning of the school year, you'd asked Hagrid to remove the Philosopher's Stone from a vault at Gringotts because of rumors about Voldemort. You were right, there was a break-in at the bank not too long after. It was hidden in the school and several teachers put protections around it to guard it. Voldemort possessed Professor Quirrell and made several attempts that year to steal the Stone."

Dumbledore had raised both eyebrows at this last, but remained silent.

"On his last attempt, I, Hermione and Ron Weasley set out to steal the Stone before he could get it. I managed to get the Stone and Quirrell tried to steal it from me. Contact with my skin made his burn and when Voldemort left his body, the combination of the two killed him. The way he reacted to touching me, it had something to do with my mother's protection before she died and the scar Voldemort gave me." Harry lifted his hair, but he didn't need to. He knew from experience Dumbledore's sharp eyes took in everything.

"My second year at Hogwarts, Ginny Weasley was given a diary containing a memory of Tom Riddle. The diary possessed her—"

"Wait," Dumbledore interrupted. "Did you say _his memory possessed her_?"

Harry nodded. "It forced her to open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash a Basilisk into the castle. Several people were Petrified, but no one died because they hadn't looked it in the eye directly. Hagrid was taken to Azkaban because he'd been framed when the Chamber was opened before, and Lucius Malfoy threatened the Board of Governors into removing you as Headmaster." Dumbledore's eyebrows were so high at this point, they looked to disappear under his hat.

"In the end, Ginny was taken into the Chamber so Riddle could drain her life and become human. He also hoped to lure me down there so he could kill me. Hermione had been Petrified, so Ron and I went into the Chamber—"

Dumbledore interrupted again. "I'm sorry, did you say you know where the Chamber's entrance is?"

"Yes," Harry responded. "The bank of sinks in the second floor girls' bathroom." Hermione gasped. "You have to use Parseltongue to get it open." Preempting Dumbledore's next question, Harry said, "Voldemort gave me some of his powers when he attacked me. Now that I think about it, wouldn't Neville have different abilities too?"

"I told you, I've never seen anything unusual around him," Hermione said.

"Maybe he's never had the opportunity to display any powers," Harry suggested. "I had no idea speaking Parseltongue was anything unusual until Draco set a snake on me during a duel."

"So you know Neville and his parents were attacked?" Dumbledore asked.

"In this reality, yes." Harry paused to let that sink in. "Ron and I went down into the Chamber with Professor Lockhart—he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts that year—but he turned on us. Turns out he'd never done any of the stuff in his books and was scared to fight the monster." There was another gasp from Hermione. He hadn't told her this either.

"He tried using a Memory Charm on me—same as he'd done the wizards who actually lived the stories in his books—and it backfired because he was using Ron's broken wand. He ended up losing his memory permanently and had to stay in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. There was a cave-in after the charm backfired and I had to go into the rest of the Chamber by myself. Fawkes brought me the Sorting Hat, which gave me Gryffindor's sword and I killed the Basilisk with it. I had gotten a fang stuck in my arm and Fawkes healed me with his tears."

At this point Hermione was squeezing his hand so hard, it was starting to grow cold from lack of circulation. He gave her a long look and jiggled his hand in hers. With a concentrated effort, she relaxed.

"Then I used the fang to stab the diary, which kept Tom's memory from killing Ginny Weasley. Later on, with the help of his house-elf, I figured out Lucius Malfoy was the one who'd slipped Ginny the diary while we were shopping in Diagon Alley."

Harry stopped to take a deep breath. Dumbledore was showing no signs that he believed the story so far, but he wasn't showing any that he didn't believe a word of it either. That, at least, was mildly encouraging. The Minister waved his wand and two bottles of butterbeer and a small glass of firewhiskey appeared, hovering in the air. Hermione and Harry took a bottle each and Harry swigged his drink down his parched throat gratefully. When he was finished, Dumbledore refilled it with a quick flick of his wand and Harry continued.

"Third year was a little less eventful. Over the summer, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban and everyone thought he would be coming after me. He'd been falsely convicted of killing Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles after Pettigrew betrayed my parents as their Secret Keeper. He escaped after he saw a picture of Pettigrew in his rat form and realized he'd faked his death. Dementors surrounded Hogwarts the entire year looking for Sirius and Professor Lupin—"

"_Remus_ Lupin?"

Harry nodded. "He had to show me how to do the Patronus Charm because the Dementors kept coming after me. In the end, Pettigrew was caught, but escaped, Sirius went on the run again and Professor Lupin quit when Snape let it slip that he was a werewolf. Oh, and Sirius escaped the Dementor's kiss after you gave Hermione and me permission to use a Time-Turner. She already had one for class and knew the rules."

"And did not teach them to you," Dumbledore commented. Harry didn't respond to this. Maybe he still had a chance to talk his way out of jail. He didn't want to blow it by getting too defensive.

"Fourth year, Hogwarts hosted the Triwizard Tournament." Harry thought of the events of that year and shook his head. "To make a long story much shorter, you'd hired Alastor Moody to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but just before school started, Barty Crouch, Jr. took Moody's place by using Polyjuice Potion and keeping him alive in a trunk all year. He Confunded the Goblet of Fire to make me a fourth Champion and spent all year arranging for me to get hints for each task so I would have a good chance of winning.

"At the last minute, he turned the Cup into a Portkey. When Cedric Diggory and I touched it together, it took us to a graveyard where Voldemort was waiting with Pettigrew. Voldemort was…he was in a small, kind of deformed body at that point. He had Cedric killed immediately and used Pettigrew's hand, one of his father's bones, and my blood to create a new body for himself. Those were the last three ingredients, at least. He said using my blood allowed him to touch me where he couldn't before, it made him stronger. Then he forced me to duel with him surrounded by Death Eaters. I barely escaped and brought Cedric's body back with me.

"When I told you what happened, after you exposed the fake Moody, you—" Harry stopped. He didn't want to say _almost looked happy_, but that was the truth of it. "You told everyone Cedric had been killed by Voldemort, including Minister Fudge who refused to believe it. I think you also reformed the Order of the Phoenix around the same time, but I don't know because you refused to tell me anything. All summer," Harry added.

Dumbledore nodded for him to continue.

"Fudge was worried that you were scaring everyone purposely because you were after his job, so he put pressure on the Daily Prophet to paint you as a senile old fool and me as a crazy attention-seeker. People who didn't know how I'd gotten into the Tournament believed what was written about me. By the time school started, everyone here and most of the public believed I might have killed Cedric to win the Tournament and used Voldemort as an excuse and that your believing my story was proof that you'd gone around the bend yourself. He succeeded in getting you demoted from Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and a few other things. There was even a campaign to discredit me further from within the Ministry. Two Dementors came after me and my cousin Dudley in Little Whinging and I was put on trial for using a Patronus to defend both of us. I would've been expelled before school began if it wasn't for you," Harry said.

"Fifth year." Harry sighed. "You were having trouble finding a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher by then, so Fudge passed an educational decree, the first of several that year, allowing the Ministry to appoint teachers to unfilled positions. He appointed Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge as the new teacher. At Fudge's order, she changed the class syllabus to a theoretical knowledge and refused to teach us defensive spells. Ron, Hermione and I formed a group we named Defense Association. Most of the time we called it Dumbledore's Army."

Another brow raise from Dumbledore in response to this.

"I was teaching everyone who wanted to learn real defense. Umbridge started me out with two weeks of detention when I openly challenged the Ministry's story that Cedric's death was simply an accident. She made me write in my own blood." Harry leaned forward then and showed Dumbledore the hand not holding his butterbeer, watching the older wizard's face change from stoic to shocked as he saw the physical evidence of Harry's story. "When she caught the D.A. meeting, she told Fudge it was evidence you were plotting against him and you left the school to avoid being put in Azkaban."

Harry sat back in his chair and sighed. This was the hard part of his story. The part that had forced him to make his decision in the Ministry Atrium. "Voldemort had been sending me visions in my dreams. I had been having strange dreams of true things for a while, but it wasn't until the summer before fifth year that he was sending them deliberately. Before that, he had no idea our minds were connected. I had no idea the visions were real until I saw Arthur Weasley being attacked by a snake in the Department of Mysteries. You asked Snape to teach me Occlumency." Harry decided to leave out the part about being the snake at the time. It all sounded strange enough coming out at once.

"I never got the hang of Occlumency, partly because Snape wasn't really making an effort with me," he said bitterly. "During exams, Voldemort sent me a vision of my godfather being tortured in the Hall of Prophecy. I thought it was real and I went there with some D.A. members to save him. There were Death Eaters there, Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy among them. I had been tricked so they could get their hands on the prophecy for Voldemort. I heard some of it, so I know it had to do with some power I'm supposed to have, but I don't really know what that could be." He searched Dumbledore's face for a clue, but the Minister was showing no expression as he listened to this part of the story. Harry took a long sip from his drink before continuing.

"There was a battle as the Death Eaters chased us around the Department of Mysteries." Harry stopped and licked his dry lips. This was where the story got sticky. "Sometime during the fight, a cabinet got broken, a Time-Turner fell in my lap and I was hit with several spells at once. I passed out. When I woke up, I had gone back in time to 1981, to the night before my parents would be murdered." Dumbledore refilled Harry's butterbeer again and he took a long swallow. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"I—I went to Godric's Hollow and left a note for my parents warning them what would happen to them." Harry stopped talking as Dumbledore set his tumbler on the desk, his normally searching eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean, you left a note? That's not possible," Dumbledore said.

"The Fidelius Charm," Hermione said. "Harry was included because—"

"That's not what he meant, Hermione." Harry sat and waited for Dumbledore to catch on to what he'd already figured out, that Snape had taken credit to get back into his mother's good graces after he'd lost her friendship years before. "I wrote them a letter," Harry said. "I knew that the Longbottoms were going to be tortured by the Lestranges and Barty Crouch, Jr., so I asked my parents to warn them too." His eyes began to burn and he blinked away the sudden tears.

"I just wanted to fix everything. All the people that had died or been hurt…" He shook his head slowly before continuing. "I waited to make sure my parents got the note and escaped to safety, then I went back to the Ministry and attempted to go back to June of next year. Obviously, that didn't happen. I couldn't get the Time-Turner to work anymore, so I came to Hogwarts to ask for help from you or Professor McGonagall. That was last Sunday night."

Dumbledore sat staring at Harry for a long moment. "I see now why McGonagall had doubts about you."

"I could take a truth serum. Again."

"He told me the entire story while he had the Veritaserum in his system," Hermione said. "If it helps."

"It does indeed, Miss Granger. But I can tell that both of you are telling the truth without it. For the most part," Dumbledore said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "I can prove whatever you think isn't true."

"Ah, now we come to the reason for such blatant honesty. How do you propose to prove it?"

"If—if you can show me how to use a Pensieve, I can give you every memory you have questions about. Anything you need."

"Anything to stay out of Azkaban," Dumbledore responded. "In some respects, you've raised more questions than you've answered." He sipped his drink and eyed Harry over the rim of the glass. "What about the attack?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The attack that landed your modern counterpart in St. Mungo's. What do you know about that?"

Harry nearly choked on his drink. He exchanged a panicked glance with Hermione. "So, I am in the hospital? How serious is it?"

"Serious enough that I had to sit in on your first talk with Professor McGonagall. I had to be sure you weren't the attacker," he said. "You are currently suffering from an illness caused by an unknown curse. The same that killed your father ten years ago."


	24. Mercy

The bottle of butterbeer in Harry's hand dropped to the floor. "What?" His now empty hand clenched into a fist. "He was sick for a while, right?"

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. "Miss Granger did a fine job of filling you in. Yes, James was sick for well over a year before he died. We do not know exactly how long as his symptoms were subtle for a long time. You, however, do not have the luxury of time."

"So, I am dying," Harry stated. "Hermione thought the Time-Turner didn't work because I'll be dead by June."

"If no cure is found, you'll be dead before Christmas, if not sooner," Dumbledore corrected.

Hermione burst into tears.

Harry had never thought of using an Unforgivable Curse before now, but considering what Snape had done to get his mother into that horrible excuse for a marriage and get rid of him, the Killing Curse seemed like a merciful punishment. Hermione leaned across the space between their chairs and into Harry's arms. He held her in silence until her sobs resolved into hiccups.

"There has to be something we can do," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion. "What do you need to find a cure? We—we can go to the hospital."

"I'm afraid that would be unwise, Miss Granger. Only Professor McGonagall and I know Harry is also here at Hogwarts. Until the attacker is found, no one can know he is dying," Dumbledore said. "What do you know about the attack Sunday?"

Harry hesitated. How much could he say without revealing the whole truth? Even if Dumbledore found out Snape was the attacker, what chance was there that he would willingly give Dumbledore a cure for the curse? If anything could be done, he and Hermione would find something on their own…and he would deal with his stepfather in due time.

"I wasn't really here. As I told Professor McGonagall, I was traveling then. When I got to the Ministry, it was full dark outside. I do know that it happened after my school things were loaded onto the train. I haven't been able to find out much else since I've been in school. I thought it best to pretend everything is normal."

Dumbledore watched him in silence for a long moment. "You told Professor McGonagall you know who your attacker was."

Hermione adjusted her hands around his waist, hugging him tighter. "I have an idea, sir," Harry said. "He may have simply ordered the attack. I still don't know the full reason why and that puts me in danger."

"Indeed it does, Mr. Potter. If your attacker finds out you are still alive at St. Mungo's, he may just come after you again so you may not identify him."

"Is that possible? That my other self could identify him?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore said. His voice sounded weary, but there was still a sharp intelligence in the eyes that watched Harry. "I attempted to go through your memories of the day in question and many of them are…what is the word? Muddled. Someone attempted a half-hearted Obliviation and several of the most recent memories are damaged. If they were to be extracted carefully, perhaps they could be repaired and the attacker could be identified."

"Then, why haven't you done that? Couldn't you have taken the memories out days ago?" Harry asked.

"Couldn't you have told us the suspect's name days ago? Mr. Potter, I assure you, I and the staff at St. Mungo's are doing the best we can to keep you alive, well past December if possible," he said. "But you cannot withhold important information and expect favors in return. I am doing you a courtesy by not locking you up tonight, but do not mistake temporary mercy for full lenience. You have broken quite a few important laws. There is only one reason I am not introducing you into a new cell in light of your confession."

"Why is that?" Harry asked. All at once, he found himself missing the kind, concerned Dumbledore who'd eased his mind after Cedric's death and had spent hours worrying about how to keep everyone, including Harry, safe from the impending threat that Voldemort presented. The man sitting before him seemed to be calculating in his mind exactly how he could bend Harry to his will by holding a very real threat of Azkaban over his head. Harry had dealt with enough manipulation over the last several years. With his very life on the line, the last thing he needed was to be toyed with.

"I want you to give me the suspect's name."

"No," Harry said a second later.

"Harry!" Hermione punched him in the shoulder. "Harry, he's going to put you in Azkaban. What are you doing?"

"He's not going to put me in Azkaban," Harry said, turning to her. "I'm dying and the only chance he has of catching this person is through me. No, not really. He could interrogate every male professor at the school, but that wouldn't exactly be subtle, would it?" He turned to face the Minister again. "You need my help as much as I need yours."

"You'd risk prison?" Dumbledore asked. He hadn't bothered disguising the surprise in his voice.

"If I'm going to die in a few months anyway, a cold cell in Azkaban won't be that bad." He held up his hand again to show the words scarred into his flesh. "I've been through hell. I can handle Dementors if I need to."

"Harry, what—?" A sharp look from Harry made Hermione go silent.

Dumbledore watched Harry for several long moments, his eyes searching the young man's face for any sign that he was unsure of his position. The older wizard closed his eyes and began drumming his fingers on the tabletop, searching his mind for a way to force the situation into another direction.

"I'll give you every memory you question," Harry offered again. Dumbledore opened his eyes. "I'll give you every one I have for five years that relates to Voldemort. I'll even give you the ones I have from the night I left the letter," he said. "You can put me in Azkaban until I die. You can force me to do whatever you want, I know you have that power. Or you can let me borrow a Pensieve, go through my memories for clues to how it's all connected, and bring you the suspect with all the evidence you'll need to convict him. I want this person to be punished more than anyone," Harry said. "But I don't want him to have the chance to get away because of a technicality at his trial."

When Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, Hermione cut him off. "There's more than just an attack on Harry to consider." She looked at Harry for permission. He nodded. "There's some kind of conspiracy going on with this professor and at least two other people. We're too deep in to stop investigating now. I'm not saying Aurors couldn't investigate this, but—"

"But, they're not in a position to go where Hermione and I can within the school. Tonks has probably already raised his suspicions."

Dumbledore blinked hard. "She told you her name?"

"I—no," Harry said. "I recognize her from before. She was a member of the reformed Order. Hermione's right. We're probably the best people to keep investigating now, not simply because I was attacked, but I know who these people are behind the masks. And an Auror or a group of them interrogating professors is going to raise eyebrows. Tonks is great in a fight, but she's not the most subtle when it comes to questioning someone. I knew you were suspicious of me by her third question. The person we're talking about, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her if she got too close."

"And what's to stop him from killing you if I allow this…_investigation_ to continue?"

Harry fought the impulse to smile. Dumbledore was going to go along with them. He could feel it. "He knows that Professor McGonagall was concerned about me the other day when I wasn't on the train and she'll personally investigate if anything else happens to me. He knows an Auror is lurking around the school for some reason. And he knows any wrong step will have at least one person pointing in his direction." Harry motioned to Hermione with one hand. "He wouldn't be willing to attack both me and Hermione because it would raise too many questions. If he were to even attempt to attack me again, his other plan, the one that really concerns him, will never get off the ground."

"And what is this other plan?"

"Something that won't go anywhere for at least two more weeks, we think," Hermione put in. "They're still in the plotting stages."

"And they're still looking for something I stole over the summer," Harry added. "That might be why I was attacked. If you go through my memories at the hospital again, you might be able to find out if there's anything else I came across that made my attacker come after me."

The Minister shook his head in disbelief. "Do you really plan on going through with all of this?"

"I think it's fair to say this man or one of his friends killed my father." Harry paused for a deep breath. "If I'm going to die from this curse, so be it. But, I want him destroyed before I'm gone. The attacker and every person helping him. It'll be easier if we have your help, but we can do it without you if we have to. Even if you take me out of Hogwarts, Hermione is going to continue the investigation," Harry said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod beside him.

This was it. All that remained was to find out if the Minister of Magic preferred to manipulate Harry into a giving up the name or would trust him to uncover a bigger operation than he could possibly figure out with half of Magical Law Enforcement on the case. He could practically see the wheels turning inside Dumbledore's head as he thought over how this situation could work to his advantage. There really was only one way to proceed and the three of them knew it.

"You'll have to deliver a sealed copy of your findings to Auror Tonks every few days," Dumbledore said after a long while. "You may also give her your memories to transfer to me."

Harry heard Hermione breathe a heavy sigh of relief next to him. He reached out and her hand grasped his tightly. "When will you loan me a Pensieve?"

"I have mine in storage. I will have it delivered tomorrow with instructions for its use." Dumbledore stood from the table and looked at Harry and Hermione over the top of his spectacles. "Do be careful, Mr. Potter. You spoke tonight as if you expect to die. That is not guaranteed. I caution you to take care that your actions with Miss Granger do not make it a certainty." With those parting words, he turned and left the empty classroom.

"I can't believe you did that," Hermione said.

"Yeah." Harry stood and stretched. "We'll get what we need tomorrow. You were right, this stuff is exhausting." He turned to where she sat in the chair fuming. "I'm starving. You ready to go down to dinner?"

"Harry, he could've easily had you thrown into Azkaban." She paused as something else occurred to her. "And maybe me too for helping you! Don't you realize how serious this is?"

"Hermione, I know it better than anyone," Harry said. "They had over a year to cure my dad of this curse and they couldn't. I have far less time than that. What we're doing, this investigation, is going to guarantee Snape and the other Death Eaters can't do this to anyone else. Chances are I'm not going to make it, but I don't want anyone else to have to suffer if I can stop it. We can stop them from bringing Voldemort back and get them all locked up in one shot." He touched a hand to her face and lifted her chin until she was looking him in the eye. She was crying silently, the corner of her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "You want that to happen, don't you?"

She nodded.

"We have to do it this way. An Auror would get caught. They don't know Snape the way I do. They don't know anyone involved and the school the way we do. If we don't do this, the opportunity will be lost. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I understand lost opportunities. I don't understand you giving up like this. I know your father didn't…that doesn't mean there's no hope for you. We know who did it and that could make all the difference."

"Yes, it does," Harry said as she threw herself into his arms. _But I'm not going to throw all my hopes into something that may never happen_, he thought. Snape's willingness to give up a cure was about as likely as Bellatrix Lestrange turning the three of them in herself. Harry preferred to save who he could while he still had the chance. The Hermione he'd known before might have considered that trait a weakness, but the one sobbing over his life in his arms knew that his willingness to pursue this till the end might be the one thing preventing the next rise of the Dark Lord.


	25. Sensitive Information

Harry and Hermione spent most of their breakfast-time the next morning in silence. The moment she'd come down into the common room that morning, he noticed her red puffy eyes and set mouth, the latter a sure sign that she was still upset that he'd all but resigned himself to die and she had no say in the matter. He understood where her feelings lay, but that didn't change the facts. The chance of Snape willingly providing a cure was nonexistent and the chance of the Healers from St. Mungo's being able to create one in the time they had was slim at best. She'd told him the night before that being cavalier about his impending death wasn't going to make facing the possibility any easier. Denial had never served anyone well. But what Hermione didn't know, and Harry wasn't going to tell her, was that he would go peacefully to whatever lay beyond if he got to personally take out Snape before it was all over. Fate owed him that much.

She'd left him the night before without another word, refusing even to eat dinner after she realized she couldn't change his mind about telling Dumbledore the whole truth. Now, sitting next to him, she was half-heartedly forcing herself to eat her meal, oblivious to the concerned looks from the students around them and radiating anger, or perhaps just sadness, at the boy sitting next to her, who watched as she stabbed her fork repeatedly at the plate.

"Will you stop that?" Hermione snapped, turning to Harry.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're staring at me," she said. "Stop it."

"I'm not." Harry glanced up and Ron and Parvati quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in a conversation. "I'm just worried about you," he added in a softer voice.

"Well, isn't that rich?" Hermione responded. "Perhaps if you spent more time worrying about—"

"Having trouble this morning?"

Harry closed his mouth, the beginning of his part of their argument going unsaid as Snape stepped closer to their table. Without another thought to how upset she was, Hermione immediately grabbed Harry's hand.

"No, Professor. Just having a spirited discussion," Hermione said, a forced smile tilting her mouth up at both ends.

Snape took in both students with a long gaze. "I suggest a Calming Draught if your spirits cannot be controlled another way. We can hear you at the High Table."

Harry was about to retort smartly, something about how that was impossible since they'd only been arguing for a duration of 10 seconds, if that, when Hermione said, "We'll be sure to keep it down. Matter of fact, I'm sure we've come to an understanding, right Harry?"

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If he had anything to say to Snape, it would probably be in the form of a jinx that would leave him immobile and helpless…before he got to a few interesting curses.

"See that you continue to control your less-than-favorable impulses," Snape said to Harry before turning to walk away. Hermione's firm grip on Harry's arm was the only thing keeping him from reaching for his wand and aiming a curse at his stepfather's back.

"You may not think it's right, Hermione, but I'm sure anything that man did is irreversible," he said, turning back to her. "I can't force myself to get my hopes up when odds are he's going to succeed. At least with what he did to me." Harry regretted the frank words when he saw Hermione's eyes begin to tear up.

"I know." She wiped at her eyes quickly with her sleeve, forcing her emotions to stay in check. "You might think I'm stupid for wanting to believe things can work out differently."

"I would never think you're stupid," Harry said.

"I just don't want to give you up. I never will."

Harry thought again of how much he desperately wanted to live, in spite of the small likelihood of that happening, if he only to have just a fraction of what he'd be missing. Something he'd been offered and had refused out of some vague sense of unease where their mutual feelings were concerned.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered.

"Harry, it's a little early to work on this stuff."

"No," Harry said. "Not for that. I think a little alone time would do us some good." As her expression softened, he added, "We could talk. After everything that's happened, I want to be able to just spend time with you. Would that be okay?"

In response, Hermione stood from her place at the table and waited for him to do the same. With one arm around his waist, Hermione led him outside of the Great Hall and towards the stairs. They hadn't made it ten steps when a voice from behind called out to Harry. They turned together, still holding each other close.

"Oh, this morning just gets better and better," Hermione said.

"I have no idea what to say to him," Harry added before waving at Draco.

"I could handle it if you need me to," Hermione suggested.

"No, I'll do it," he whispered as the other boy got closer.

Draco stepped up to them, sweeping his eyes along the hall before he stepped close. "Did you handle what we talked about?" he asked.

Harry sighed. He hadn't had time to come up with a proper lie for Draco and wasn't in the mood to come up with one on the spot. Perhaps some semblance of the truth wouldn't be so bad after all. "The parchment is part of a larger collection of documents, possibly stolen. Ministry notes on a missing person who is thought to be dangerous."

Hermione stiffened against his side.

Draco blinked rapidly a few times. "I hadn't expected that. I knew it was probably something important, but not anything stolen. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

Harry shook his head. "Just that your father and Snape were planning something for the end of the month, but they won't be able to track this person down without the parchment I stole."

Draco looked around the hall again before saying, "That might explain why Aunt Bella has been acting strangely." He beckoned both of them closer before continuing. "I went to see her after dinner last night and she was pacing around in her office, going on about how things were falling apart and something had to be done or they'd all have hell to pay come October."

Hermione and Harry exchanged quick glances. He could tell she was thinking the same thing he was, this new revelation from Draco was either a confirmation of their earlier guesses or terribly convenient in light of what they'd learned so far. It was difficult to tell at this point whether Draco could be trusted.

"That was before she noticed me, of course," Draco said. "When I asked her, she said she was just worried about something Professor McGonagall wanted the staff to do. That's why they had the staff meeting before dinner the other night. Then she asked me if I thought you've been acting strangely this past week. I told her you're fine as far as I know. You've been spending a lot of time with Hermione." He nodded at her. "She asked me to spend more time with you, make sure nothing is…wrong," Draco added.

"She asked you to keep an eye on me," Harry said.

"Not in so many words, but they're watching you. Are you sure you're going to be okay, Harry?" Again, the concern in his eyes seemed genuine. It took Harry by surprise that Draco could be worried about anything or anyone that didn't directly affect his chances of getting ahead in the world. If it was real, it would take some serious getting used to.

He nodded before the question had passed from the other boy's mouth. "That means we're on the right path. Whatever they're doing, they don't want us involved."

"Would that be for the best?"

"The best for whom?" Hermione asked.

Draco frowned but said nothing in response.

"Look Draco, I'm not going to force you to lie to your aunt for me, but I'm going to keep investigating, whatever happens. If you can't help me, that's fine," Harry said. "But I can trust you not to say anything, right?"

"Of course, of course," Draco said. "If you find anything else, you'll let me know?"

"You'll be the first," Hermione said. She held her fake smile until Draco took off the way he'd come and went back into the Great Hall. The moment he was out of earshot, Hermione said, "Now, I'm really confused. I thought we'd agreed he can't be trusted."

Harry shrugged. "This will prove if he can or can't be. What he just told us could be valuable, if it's true. If he's passing information back to either Bellatrix or Snape, what I told him will be enough for one of them to have a reaction. They might get nervous and make a mistake. And, like I told Dumbledore, they can't touch me while I'm at school. We'll still have to watch Draco. If he can keep it a secret, maybe we can get him to help us. He'll have access to his aunt's office where we couldn't, so we won't have to sneak in there. We just need to know if it's more important to him to be honest with me or them. Choosing between the right thing and family is not easy."

Hermione shook her head slowly, trying to wrap her head around Harry's rapid change in plan and the convoluted reasoning behind it. "Okay, fine. I hope you know what you're doing. I suppose we can see what happens with Draco. Can we stop by the dorms on the way to the Room of Requirement? I want to go over a few of these things, now that he's got me thinking about it. Maybe I can stop by the library later. I didn't get any of my homework done and we still need some more advanced Potions books."

"Why don't I meet you in the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked. "I think there's a cabinet of old books in the Potions classroom. I'll bring one or two up with me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Harry, it's dangerous for you to be down there by yourself. What if that woman—"

He shrugged. "What could they possibly do to me?" he asked, backing away a few steps. "I'm already dying."

Hermione flinched at his words, but said nothing as he began walking in another direction and took the closest stairs down into the dungeons. She knew there was nothing worse they could do to him that hadn't already been done, but she didn't want to lose him any sooner than she had to.

Harry walked into the Room of Requirement twenty minutes later with two battered copies of Advanced Potion Making tucked under his arm. Hermione had already gotten started. The stack of parchment comprising Dumbledore's notes was pushed to the far side of the table, a large box was open directly in front of her. She was glancing over the contents with a smile on her face as Harry approached.

"The _Daily Prophet_ got back to me a little early," she said around a wide grin as Harry sat at the table. "Not only did they send me the back issues I asked for, but they dropped in a few issues that mentioned small Ministry break-ins over the past year. They may not all help us, but it couldn't hurt to look through them." Hermione pulled out the first issue on the stack. "This is the one you'll find most interesting."

She handed him a paper with the title **Ministry Break-In Leaves Security Baffled**. Harry scanned the article quickly. It went on to describe how several high-ranking Ministry officials had come into the office that morning to find their desks ransacked, and many documents of a "classified and sensitive nature" missing, in spite of the extensive security measures taken. The most notable victim was the Minister himself, who had left a mass of personal research in the Department of Mysteries. The article closed with a statement from Dumbledore claiming that the thieves would be caught and punished to the full extent of the law and that public safety was not in any immediate danger.

Harry looked up from the paper to find Hermione still grinning wildly.

"Do you see? This was the first week of August. There may have been smaller break-ins to the Department of Mysteries before this, but they couldn't cover it up when the thieves went pillaging throughout the building. The Ministry spent the next three weeks having just about every house connected to a Ministry employee searched only to find nothing."

"But they never thought to search the house of a Hogwarts professor," Harry said. "That's why Snape was keeping the Key at his house until Gringotts was no longer being watched. It wasn't safe with Malfoy because of his contacts at the Ministry. The rest of Dumbledore's notes had to be moved as well. But why the other documents? What else would they need to steal?"

"They have papers from Auror Headquarters, International Magical Office of Law and the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. If I had to guess, I'd say they want to find out more about the security measures around Britain, procedures and such for how people are apprehended."

"That's kind of a wide guess," Harry said. "I think it's more likely they want to take over the Ministry and need to know what parts of government are least protected."

Hermione frowned. "That's what I just said. They'll be trying to find out where the government is weak so they know just how to strike. The Ministry is not going to change all of it's operating procedures overnight because a few thieves got a hold of their paperwork."

"That's assuming the papers are related to how each of those departments is run. We don't know what they consider 'sensitive' in government."

"Well, look," Hermione said, sighing as she dropped the next newspaper back into the box. "I'm trying. At least I'm trying." Grabbing the first paper from Harry's hand, she shoved it into the box and pushed the entire collection of _Daily Prophets_ onto the floor with a sweep of her arm. It landed on the floor with a resounding thud. "Show me the books."

Harry blinked at her abrupt change in mood, but said nothing. He handed over one of the Potions books. "I figured if I picked up beat up copies, no one would notice them missing. Besides, with the school year already started, most students probably have their supplies already."  
"Yeah," Hermione replied absently, opening the book to the first page. She flipped through a few pages before frowning and slamming the cover shut. "Trade with me. Whoever owned this one obviously had no respect for their book. It's got writing all over the pages."

"That makes it okay for me?" Harry asked, offering her a small smile. She glared in response. Wordlessly, he pushed his copy of Advanced Potion Making towards Hermione and caught the one she threw back in his direction before it made contact with his nose. "You know, if you don't want to help me, you don't have to."

"And just let you die?" Hermione asked without looking up. "Not a chance. First, I'm going to find out about those potion ingredients, then I want you to get a list of your symptoms from Dumbledore. If there's a potion involved in the curse, we can probably figure out how it was made. And if there's a way to cure it, I will find it."

Harry was surprised she'd made it through her little speech without dissolving into tears again, but as Hermione flipped through the worn Potions book quickly, he realized she'd merely transformed her sadness into anger at the situation. He wouldn't push her to accept what he thought was inevitable. If she wanted to spend her time looking for a cure, at least she'd have that to hold on to when he was gone. That she'd done everything in her power to attempt to save him before the end.


	26. Personal Motivation

"Ah, I am blessed with a personal visit this time."

"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore responded. He stepped out of the fireplace and shook out his canary yellow robes before performing a quick charm to clean them. "I thought you might have grown tired of making angry faces at my portrait. I also considered it best to assure you in person." He transfigured a hard-backed chair into a cushioned armchair and took a seat in front of her desk.

She turned quickly and glared at the older wizard. "Assure me of what? Have you finally arrested the attacker?" Better yet, could she finally force herself to forget those tempting thoughts of revenge that had consumed her thoughts since she'd found out the truth? The more she considered it, the more a personal form of retribution sounded appealing.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at her. "Has Harry told you who he is?"

Minerva crossed her arms and leaned back against her desk. "No, but I have a good idea."

"Who is it?"

"What did you come to tell me?" she asked, ignoring his question.

He studied her for another moment before saying, "I just wanted to assure you that there is nothing sinister about Harry's presence here. Suffice it to say, there is an unusual situation at play. When I spoke to him last night—"

"You spoke to him last night? Why wasn't I informed? Why didn't you come to me afterwards?" McGonagall fingered the handle of her wand as she spoke, the irritation she'd been feeling towards Dumbledore recently coming to the forefront as he spoke.

If Harry had managed to reach the Minister without coming to her first, she had no doubt the man in front of her would've left her out of the loop completely. She'd never been bothered by his forward manner before, but with a potential life-threatening situation at the school, she expected the courtesy of being informed of everything taking place. In light of the Minister's attitude, she had no problem letting Harry reveal his attacker's identity in his own time. Certainly, she couldn't expect Dumbledore to act with everyone's best interest in mind. Not when the attack had become a personal cause.

"I thought it best I speak to Harry alone last night, in order to get him to trust me. He refused to speak without Miss Granger by his side, but no matter." Dumbledore settled deeper into the chair. He waved his wand and a cup of tea appeared in the air. "You may want to take this."

McGonagall accepted the cup but did not bring it to her lips. "Well? What is the big mystery?"

"Voldemort." At her shocked expression, he added, "Harry apparently used a Time-Turner at some point in his past in order to escape a life created for him by a previous attack. The scar he bears is a remnant of that attack."

McGonagall snorted. "There is no curse Voldemort would perform on a child that would result in a scar, much less one that he could live through."

"I don't think Neville Longbottom would agree, Minerva."

She brought the mug of tea to her lips and sipped it slowly, willing her thoughts to slow down as the Minister's words coursed through her mind. Neville had been lucky to escape with that small reminder of the deaths of his parents. If Harry had been in a similar situation, she could hardly blame him for wanting to change it, in spite of the results of his actions. Still, such a claim was highly questionable.

"Harry has spent the last several years as The Boy Who Lived." Before she could interrupt, he said, "Do you remember when I told you Neville was not the only child Voldemort had in his sights that year?" Dumbledore sighed. "Harry was the other child. I had actually believed at the time that it would be Lily and her husband having to defend their son. They went into hiding at my urging. At some point in his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry came across a Time-Turner and used it to prevent what would happen to his parents, himself, and several other people after his arrival at school. Because of the attack Sunday, he was not able to return to the correct date and was caught, for lack of a better term."

"He and Lily and James—?"

"Were supposed to end up as Frank, Alice and Neville did. I shall have to confirm his story, but I do believe him. Now, what has he told you about his attacker?"

She brushed off his question. "How are you going to confirm any of that? It sounds wilder than what he told me."

"I've loaned him my Pensieve," he responded. "I trust you'll be able to help him with his memories if he has any trouble. He'll be giving me a great deal of information."

"About changing his past? Why if he confessed as much?"

"Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "Harry has suffered some kind of attack from Voldemort or one of his followers almost every year since he came to Hogwarts. Fortunately, Neville has never had to suffer that fate. Harry will be extracting a number of memories for me. I may be able to use the information to replace some of the notes stolen weeks ago and perhaps predict if we are to be visited by the so-called Dark Lord again."

Professor McGonagall blinked in surprise. This was nothing like what they had been discussing for nearly a week. "Is that your new priority? What about Harry? What happens to him?"

"I assure you, as I did him, that we are doing our best to look for a cure to this dreadful curse, if one is to be found. Harry understands the realities of his situation," he said.

McGonagall took that to mean, he has accepted that he will probably die. "What am I to do now? Let him continue to go to class while simultaneously dying at St. Mungo's? That hardly makes sense."

"I think Harry is onto something about his attacker," Dumbledore began. "He suspects there is more to his attack than meets the eye."

"Obviously," McGonagall replied. "It would have to be an unusual circumstance for someone to attack a fifteen-year-old." _Especially his stepson_, she thought.

Dumbledore nodded. "Harry suspects his attack was connected to Death Eater activity." McGonagall clutched her cup tight and finished her tea in one long swallow. "I am allowing him to investigate on behalf of the Ministry, with Auror Tonks relaying any information he and Miss Granger uncover. This could be exactly what we need."

"Exactly what we need to fight someone who hasn't been seen in nearly fourteen years?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"That doesn't mean he is not around, biding his time somewhere."

"Did Harry actually say his attack was from a Death Eater? A professor at this school with the Dark Mark? Did he use those words?" McGonagall asked, doubt lacing her voice. Dumbledore's silence was all the answer she needed. "This is sounding more dangerous by the minute. He did not tell you of Death Eaters exactly, and yet you wish him to continue whatever he is doing behind closed doors. Granted, the attacker needs to be stopped, but not with a rubbish story that'll have you laughed out of the Wizengamot. As Minister, you undoubtedly have a great deal of influence, but you'll still need solid evidence to convict him."

"And I shall have it," Dumbledore responded. "Harry and Miss Granger are in the process of uncovering something…unsavory about this attacker and a number of other people. If you could find an excuse for them to attend as few classes as possible for the next two weeks, and possibly distract this professor from their actions, if you know who he is," he said pointedly, "it would be of great benefit to Harry and myself. He wishes to find evidence of whatever caused the attacker to go after him and, as you well know, I intend to get inside this man's head in order to save Harry's life."

Before McGonagall could interrupt he added, "It was Harry who decided this internal investigation was to take priority. He deliberately chose not to give the professor's name last night because he felt the attacker's other plan was more significant. He did tell you the other day that he wanted to make sure this person is not a threat. He was telling the truth then and I believe he continued to do so last night." Dumbledore stood from his chair and walked towards the fireplace. "Do see that he gets all of the help you can provide."

A few seconds later, Dumbledore stepped from the fireplace and into his own office, leaving the Headmistress using language she never thought she would use to describe a man she'd long since come to respect. His own obsession with the lost soul of Tom Riddle was affecting his judgment, and possibly, the rest of Harry's life. Regardless of what he claimed the boy had chosen to do, she had no doubt the Minister, the _adult_ in the situation, wasn't fighting any plan that would get him one step closer to righting a wrong he should've long since given up on. She only hoped it wouldn't end with Harry, and who knew how many others, dead, paying the price for the whims of an old man who refused to let go of his past mistakes.

* * *

"The Draught of Living Death," Hermione said. Harry looked up from his potions book and watched as she fumbled through Dumbledore's notes until she came across the Key. She pulled the page closer and compared the two sets of ingredients. "I think I'm right. Turn to page ten." She waited until he flipped to the page she was reading. "See, asphodel in an infusion of wormwood and valerian roots. It all makes sense."

"Enlighten me," Harry responded.

"Normally, this potion would cause someone to fall into a deep sleep, similar to what Muggles might think of as a coma, but they would appear to be dead. Without the sopophorous bean, it wouldn't have that affect. It would suspend the body's physical state, I think. With Mandrake Draught and Unicorn Blood and all of these other things to revitalize the body, it's probably the only way to revive someone…"

"From being not quite dead?" he asked.

"Well, yes. I suppose. Or create a body. With the proper spell to accompany it. There are several parts to this Key and they're all pretty complicated. I think this is the last step before putting the soul into the new body." Hermione put the parchment down and stared at Harry, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You know, if we tell Dumbledore we have this, we could try using part of this on you."

"On me?" Harry slammed a fist onto the table. "You're crazy if you think I'm going to let anyone put any of that on me," he said, motioning to the page that had drifted onto the floor.

"No, it wouldn't be like that," Hermione said, hurrying to pick up the parchment. "We wouldn't use the blood or anything, just the parts of the potion that could heal your body. Maybe it'll boost your immune system enough so you could fight the effects of the curse. Or we could suspend the parts of your body that have been affected so they could be healed separately."

"No!" He settled back into his chair and ran a hand through his hair, shaking in his sudden fury. "Why would you want to do that to me?"

"Why?" Hermione slammed the book closed and pushed it to the center of the table. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what else to do. You never know, this might work. It couldn't hurt. If you're already going to die, anything that could help is a good idea. I don't care what the ingredients are if it saves your life," she said. She pushed away from the table then and, grabbing the box of newspapers from the floor, left Harry alone in the Room of Requirement, wondering what he'd done to make her so desperate to save him, she'd risk his soul.

* * *

After a few minutes, Harry got up to go to the Gryffindor common room. He'd make his way to the library after Hermione calmed down, assuming that's where she disappeared to. Putting up with her occasional moodiness had never bothered him this much before, but at least now he could understand it. Still, her desperation to have him around did not justify suggesting something that…_insane_ as a possibility. He hoped it didn't come down to it, but he would rather die in some peaceful way than use that perversion he'd witnessed Voldemort commit in the graveyard to create himself a new, healthy body. Hermione was right. The ingredients were disgusting, and the personal repercussions for using them were unimaginable.

Walking into the common room, Harry realized he had no desire to be around any of his schoolmates. Relaxing and casual conversation would probably benefit him, but he didn't feel like fielding the inevitable questions about what was going on with Hermione, something everyone expected her _boyfriend_ to be the expert on. Waving absently at a few fellow Gryffindors, Harry shifted the two books in his hands and took the stairs two at a time to his dorm room, stopping in surprise in the doorway when he spotted Hermione sitting on his bed, one of his pillows clutched tightly in her arms. He approached slowly, barely glancing at the box that sat on the far side of the bed.

When he reached her side, she said, "I feel like I always have to apologize to you these days." Harry sat on the bed, dropping the books behind himself. Hermione turned away from him and stared at her hands as she toyed with the tag on his pillow. "I don't want you to think I've gone completely around the bend. I know you'd never really want to do any of that stuff, but it frustrates me that you don't want to do anything about the curse." She looked up then and searched his eyes for an answer. "Tell me why. Why don't you want to live?"

"Of course I want to live, Hermione. That's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous, is it?" She bit her lip to stop herself from crying and pushed him away when he reached for her. "Then, why don't you want to fight? I feel like I'm pulling for this by myself. I want you to live. I want you to have the family you've never had, to be able to go to school w-without a threat of the Dark Lord over your head. I want you to live so…" She swallowed hard and looked down again, throwing his pillow to the side.

"You want me to live so we can be together," he supplied. "Hermione, look at me." After a few seconds, she turned, her face once again masking her true emotions. "I don't know how it can work between us. Even if I live. I don't want to get your hopes up."

"You don't want to get _your_ hopes up," she countered. "I know what's at stake here. For the last few years, I've lived it. I know what I feel about you. I know what we had and what we could have again. I refuse to act like our relationship is an afterthought because you don't—" He cut her off with a kiss. It lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough for Hermione to be shocked into complete silence.

"I'm learning that's the best way to get your attention," Harry said. "You know what I've been through. You know what I will probably go through before it's all over. The odds are so far against me, against us, and I'm tired of fighting."

"And I'm getting tired of your excuses. I don't think you should deny yourself something that will make you happy because you only have so much time left. You should enjoy what you can while you can." Hermione reached for him and let her hand rest on the back of his neck. Her warm eyes implored him. "There are some battles you shouldn't have to fight, Harry."

As he let her words sink in, it seemed only natural to pull her towards him, hold her close and kiss her as if his world wasn't coming to an abrupt end any time soon. She returned his attentions touch for touch, almost shaking in her relief that he was finally returning at least a small part of the affection she had for him. He knew what he was beginning to feel wasn't going to be nearly enough for her, but it was a beginning and she could accept that. She would accept him trying.

Countless minutes later, Harry pulled out of her arms and took a deep breath, licking his lips slowly as he eyed the girl next to him. It was no wonder Professor McGonagall had panicked when she found them in this exact spot months before. Hermione was dangerously persuasive when she put her mind to it. The temptation to go further was almost palpable in the air.

"Your um…Dumbledore sent you the Pensieve," Hermione said, motioning to the box behind her. "There's a note with it."

"Did you read it?"

She shook her head as she handed it to him. "It's still sealed, but I recognized his handwriting."

Harry broke the seal on the letter and read it over quickly. "He's included a book on memory extraction and storage and a number of empty vials for me to use once I learn the charm. I suppose I could get started now."

"No," Hermione said. "You should get a fresh start tomorrow, give yourself a chance to read through everything. Besides, with all that's going on, you still have to turn in homework."

"I had really been hoping to escape all that last week," Harry said. "You're right though, it's probably better if I do this when I don't feel quite so…"

"Right. Exactly." She smiled and stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. I've got a ton of work to catch up on and I want to get to the library before it closes. Will you try to come to breakfast?"

"I don't know."

"You need to keep up your strength," Hermione said. She kissed him again, a smile lingering after she pulled away. "Good night, Harry."

He nodded and watched as she walked away, realizing with a pang that instead of fighting against her and the idea of their relationship, now he would be fighting himself to control how far and how fast they would go.


	27. Extraction

Severus Snape dismissed his class early with an essay that would keep them busy through their next meeting time if their ignorant answers to his questions were any indication. Aside from the appalling lack of knowledge prevalent in the student body, it was his wont to provide the spoiled children with a slightly more extensive assignment than usual because it cleared his schedule for nearly an hour. The relief of not having to force-feed his students what they should've read before class was only intensified by his excitement at finally getting to tackle a project the Dark Lord had waited too long to see completed.

It had taken long hours to determine the exact spell that would work on the diary, but at long last, Snape was ready for the fruits of their hard work to come into existence. He glanced absently at the caged snake sleeping in the far corner of his office. If all went well, it would be very much awake soon. Awake, aware and another step towards bringing the Dark Lord back to life.

* * *

For the third time in a row, Harry's hand shot into the air at almost the same time as Hermione raised hers, causing her to huff in frustration as he answered the question posed to the class. With a small smile at him, Bellatrix acknowledged his answer before continuing to describe to the class the properties of the dangerous ingredients they'd be working with.

"You're cheating," Hermione whispered when their professor went across the room to answer a question.

Harry didn't bother controlling his impulse to smile at Hermione before he responded. "Oh? How is that?"

"You already know the answers!" she retorted.

Harry chuckled. "So do you. Upset because someone else in class read the book?"

"I—no!" She frowned. "Of course I want you to do well, but if you've already done—"

"Miss Granger, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

Hermione took a breath and smiled at their Potions professor. "No, Professor. I was just reminding Harry of the proper way to add the ingredients so the potion won't release poisonous fumes after the fifth step. I'd hate if his forgetfulness got us all killed." She aimed a smile in his direction.

"I'm sure none of us would like to experience that eventuality," Bellatrix responded. "For everyone's benefit, I'll go over the instructions in detail. While I can administer emergency aid, I would like all of you to make this potion as carefully as possible so that will not be necessary."

Twenty minutes later, Harry was leaning over a steaming cauldron when he felt the change. His head began to ache. Not a normal kind of pain, but a deep ache that began somewhere behind his scar, the kind that couldn't be cured with a simple potion. One hand drifted to his brow absently as he stirred his cauldron, focusing on the number of stirs required since Hermione had gotten him nervous about the possible side effects if he made it incorrectly. He glanced over as she worked at her own cauldron. Trust her to make him nervous and then go on with her class work without breaking a sweat. He had a mind to tell her she was doing it wrong so she could start triple-checking her own potion.

Before he could drop a hint about the ingredients she was measuring, a small scream from the other side of the room captured his attention. As he looked over, Lavender dropped the bottle in her hand to the table and dropped to the floor, kneeling next to Neville. Several other students were on their feet and crowded around in seconds, barely giving their professor room to squeeze through to check on the student.

"What happened?"

"Is he okay?"

"Students, please! I need to get closer," Bellatrix said in a raised voice. When she shouldered her way through, Harry could see Neville's feet as the crowd parted. They were shaking as he trembled on the floor. Neville moaned loudly as the professor reached his side, running a hand quickly over his sweating brow. "Class, we need to clear out. It looks like Mr. Longbottom has—"

Bellatrix never got to finish her statement as two things happened at once. Neville began screaming and bucking from the stone floor, one hand clutching at the side of his face until blood began pouring out in small rivulets. And Harry felt the sharp edge of pain through his own scar; the shock of it rendered him momentarily blind as he sank to his knees, pounding his fist against the spot above his eye that pulsed with malignant power.

"Harry?" Hermione screamed. "What's wrong?"

He fell to the floor in answer, his own screams joining Neville's as his scar began bleeding, the pain seeming to increase ten-fold as the attack went on. Suddenly, a high, thin voice replaced the screams of both students, the shouts becoming a rapid hissing that filled the air. Within moments, the hissing and convulsions stopped, and both students lay still.

"Are they dead?"

Their professor didn't respond to this question. She merely stood in place, her eyes darting back and forth between each student as she tried to process everything that had happened.

"No! Harry?" Hermione sank to her knees and put her head to his chest, listening for his heartbeat. "He's alive. He's not dead. He's breathing. He—Professor! We have to get them to the Hospital Wing."

Bellatrix came to her senses then, seeming to remember she was in charge of the frightened class. "Everyone, go out of the dungeons and straight to the Hospital Wing. Don't bother with your books. Your things will be brought to you after you've all been checked out."

"Are they going to be okay?" Lavender asked. She wiped at her streaming tears with one long sleeve. "If there's poison gas in here…"

As a swell of panic threatened to spread throughout the room, Bellatrix said, "This is not the reaction one would expect from a poisoning incident. Still, I want everyone out of the room now. Someone will inspect the room later." She nodded before Lavender could protest again. "Yes, Miss Brown, I am sure they will both be fine."

Hermione was not so sure, but she stood and watched in silence as her panicked classmates quickly walked out of the room and into the hall. They were followed by Lavender and Parvati, the latter of whom appeared to be holding the other girl up as they walked. They, in turn, were followed by Bellatrix Lestrange and Hermione, who had stayed behind to help the professor levitate the bodies—to help levitate the unconscious Harry and Neville upstairs.

* * *

"No, I'm not going anywhere!" Hermione shook off Madam Pomfrey's arm and pulled her chair closer to Harry's bedside, frowning as the older witch attempted to pull her away again.

"Miss Granger, I assure you, he is stabilized. I insist you let me examine you," the nurse said, grasping Hermione's arm again.

"I'm fine, I have to stay with him," she said. She looked back at Harry and cursed herself inwardly for the tears that immediately blurred her vision at the sight. His skin was pale, even against the stark white sheets of the cot. He hadn't moved in almost thirty minutes and she would not let anyone separate her from him until he opened his eyes. Hermione grabbed his hand with her free arm and squeezed his fingers as her pulse was taken by Madam Pomfrey; she was trembling too much to discern whether the movement she felt was Harry awakening or her own shaken nerves still reacting to what she'd witnessed.

She studied his face again. He was still unconscious. Thankfully, he and Neville had both stopped bleeding from their respective scars sometime before they got to the Hospital Wing, but that did not explain what exactly had happened. In fact, in the time since they'd left the dungeons, no one—not Professor Lestrange, not Madam Pomfrey, and not a very shaken Professor McGonagall—had been able to tell what had caused two students to collapse in class. Professor Lestrange had sent Auror Tonks to search the room for any leaked poisons, but so far they had heard no reasonable explanation for why both boys had suffered attacks. As Hermione watched over Harry for any sign that he was going to awaken, she vowed one thing to herself. If she found out Professor Snape had anything to do with what happened, however remote the possibility, she would do everything in her power to make him pay for hurting Harry again, however long that might take.

"Miss Granger, you will have to come over here so I can examine you fully. Mr. Potter will be fine," Madam Pomfrey said.

"I have to be here when he wakes up," Hermione insisted, pulling her arm away as the nurse made to remove her from his bedside. "I can't leave him." Wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, Hermione pulled her chair next to Harry's pillow and put her head down next to his on the bed, clutching his hand tightly in hers.

"Miss Granger."

"Hermione," Professor McGonagall said.

She looked up to see Professor Lestrange standing next to the Headmistress, both women wearing identical expressions of concern. "No," Hermione said. "I can't. I love him. I'm not going to just leave him to—I have to stay."

"An examination will not take long, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm afraid I have to insist."

"Me too." Hermione jumped and turned as Harry's weak voice carried to her. He opened his eyes to narrow slits and shook his hand in hers feebly. "You need to get checked out. And let me get some blood in my hand while you're at it."

She ignored his attempt at humor and leaned over to kiss him instead, running her hands over his face as if to make sure he was real. "Are you okay?" She kissed him again, her tears coming faster as he nodded. "I was so worried. When you started screaming, I didn't know what to do. If anything happens to you…"

"I'm fine," he whispered, though he looked anything but. "Let Madam Pomfrey look after you. Then come back and tell me everything."

She watched him for a few more moments before planting one last kiss on his cheek and walking away from the bed to where Madam Pomfrey stood patiently waiting. As the nurse ran her wand over Hermione from head to toe, she glanced to where Neville still lay unconscious, a bandage over the jagged scar on the side of his face, and the bed next to him where Lavender had been placed after she'd been sedated. Both had been judged healthy, though Lavender had taken a nasty shock and would need to be sedated again if she screamed the way she had before Madam Pomfrey had given her a potion to calm her. Hermione had avoided the same fate by doing her panicking silently, only voicing her protests after the rest of their Potions class had been examined and dismissed, leaving her to be pried from Harry's bedside, what she'd been worried would be his deathbed.

"A clean bill of health," the nurse said a couple of minutes later. Madam Pomfrey grabbed Hermione's arm again before she could return to Harry. "I think you'll need a rest all the same. Let me give you a small amount of Sleeping Draught."

Hermione shook her arm off and began backing away. "No, I have to stay awake. What if something happens to Harry?"

Professor Lestrange stood at the foot of Harry's bed, her watchful gaze on Hermione. "He's been examined and he's fine. What else do you think could happen to him?"

_A whole load of things I never would've imagined before last week_, she thought. Hermione shook her head and stepped past her professor and Headmistress to resume her watch next to his bedside, taking his hand as Harry attempted to sit up in bed.

"Harry, you need to rest," Hermione said.

"You should talk," he responded. "You look like hell."

"Well, thanks. I was just worried that you might, you know, die or something."

At her expression, Harry squeezed her hand weakly and lay back into the pillows, closing his eyes for a few seconds as a small pain passed through his scar again.

"Harry? You're moaning. Does it hurt again? Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione shouted. "He's in pain. You have to give him something."

The nurse was at the bedside a few seconds later, brandishing her wand in Hermione's direction. "Miss Granger, I understand that you are worried, but if you cannot calm yourself, I will silence you with or without your permission. Mr. Potter, do you wish to take anything? Where are you feeling pain?"

He opened his eyes again. "No, I feel better already," he said, attempting to sit up. A wave of dizziness forced him back to the bed with a small groan.

"I'll bring you something for the vertigo and the headache," Madam Pomfrey said, walking away quickly.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Harry, when you're feeling up to it, I'd like you to tell me what happened. Mr. Longbottom is still unconscious."

"I hardly know, Professor," Harry said. He lifted his hand halfheartedly from the bed. "My scar started hurting and then…" He stopped speaking as he remembered, vaguely, the next thing that happened. Voldemort had spoken to him, through him, and he'd felt as if he were being lifted from his body. He had been fighting to keep himself inside it, but that didn't make any sense. None of what happened made sense.

"How did you get that scar, Harry?" Professor Lestrange asked. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand as the woman came closer. "I noticed it last week, but I thought it was nothing at the time. It was bleeding earlier."

Harry blinked hard. _What kind of lie about a scar that began bleeding out of nowhere would be believable at this point?_

Professor McGonagall said, "Harry was playing at something very dangerous over the summer and that scar is the result of a violent misdeed." In response to Harry's wide-eyed expression, she added, "Yes, I discussed your situation with our mutual friend last night. There is a lot you did not tell me during our conferences last week."

"Tell you about what, Minerva?" Professor Lestrange asked.

Professor McGonagall eyed the suddenly interested woman over the top of her glasses. "Mr. Potter was getting involved with, shall we say, the wrong kind of people before he came to us last week. I was merely trying to make sure he was back on the right track." She turned back to where Harry lay in the bed, his confusion evident. "If Harry does not show a significant change in behavior, I believe I will have to pull him from regular classes and supervise him in Independent Study."

"That's odd. I haven't noticed a behavior problem in Harry lately," Bellatrix said. "As a matter of fact, he's been more attentive in class and sharper in his assignments than I've ever seen."

"Pardon me for saying this, Bellatrix, but you do favor the boy," McGonagall said. "You would hardly be the one to notice if he had a behavior problem. You do recall the incident with Miss Granger last term?"

"Yes." Bellatrix glanced over to where Hermione lay with her head on Harry's pillow. "I thought it was an isolated incident."

"Unless I am much mistaken, they have taken to disappearing together for hours on end again, neglecting their Prefect duties to go who knows where," McGonagall said. Hermione turned her face into Harry's pillow to hide her blush. "Perhaps your sudden illness was caused by…a lack of adequate rest, Mr. Potter." Hermione shot up then, her eyes open wide at the implication.

"No, Professor. I don't think it was that." His eyes went back and forth between Bellatrix and McGonagall. "Hermione and I have just been studying together. That's why I've been doing so well in class."

Bellatrix nodded. "Yes, I walked in on one your study sessions Saturday morning in the dungeons, didn't I?"

McGonagall cut her eyes at her quickly before returning her gaze to the two students. "That settles it, then. I will keep you both in my office for Independent Study for the next two weeks or until you can show me you can be trusted to move about the castle with the rest of the students. Professor Snape can find someone else to take over your duties as Prefects for the time being."

"But Professor," Hermione started, "classes have just started. I can't miss Ancient Runes this early in the term. I'll never be able to keep up."

"Hermione, we have no choice but to accept this punishment," Harry said. She looked at him and he tried to communicate his meaning through his eyes. "If Professor McGonagall thinks we need to be out of classes _all day_ until our issues are resolved, I don't think we need to fight it."

Her eyes widened a bit as she finally caught his meaning. "Fine," she said. "I'll probably have to spend all my time studying if I'm not in the class, and it's all your fault," Hermione added, getting into the spirit of their lie. "If you hadn't insisted we try that storage room on the sixth floor—" Hermione broke off and looked at the two professors with what she hoped was a properly ashamed look. "I'm sorry, Professor. It won't happen again."

"That's what you said last term," Professor McGonagall replied. "See that you stick to it after this punishment is over. There will be no further chances to get it right." She motioned to Professor Lestrange. "Come Bellatrix. You can inform Severus of what's happened while I find out if Ms. Diggory has uncovered the reason for these students' sudden illness." She nodded at the bed. "Let Mr. Potter rest, Miss Granger. You have both done enough for today."

Hermione didn't respond as their Headmistress lead Professor Lestrange outside of the quiet hospital wing. She didn't need to say anything, she realized as she caught Harry's eye. It was enough that the woman was on their side and was doing everything she could to help them.


	28. Meeting of the Minds

The door to Snape's office opened without preamble, crashing into the wall behind it. He didn't bother looking up from the parchment he was reading as he asked, "Something on your mind, Bella?"

"What were you playing at earlier? You could've gotten us all killed." The witch entered the office and slammed the door closed behind her. She took a seat in front of the desk and tapped her fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair until Snape looked up at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Something to say?"

"I'd like an explanation," she said, in a slightly calmer voice. "When we discussed the extraction, you claimed it would be a fairly simple process once you'd broken the enchantments. When those two collapsed in my class, I thought for sure the Ministry would launch a full-scale investigation. Dumbledore still might. If he was suspicious about Harry being attacked once, what do you think will happen when he finds out it happened again?"

Snape put down the paper he'd been reading, marked the top with a 'D' and placed it on the stack with the other mediocre work. His eyes raked over Bella's face for a few seconds before he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I apologize for disturbing what I'm sure was a delightful lesson, but have you ever tried removing a bit of someone's soul from a vessel?" Snape reached into a desk drawer and tossed the mangled remains of Tom Riddle's diary onto his desk. "It's not something one is able to do easily. Especially without damaging the portion of soul in question. When I get to the Cup, I'll do it at home so there won't be any further inquiries.

"As for Potter and Longbottom, I had no idea there would be a reaction from any of the students or I wouldn't have done it on school grounds at all. You know as well as I that the Dark Lord requires absolute discretion until the appropriate time."

"Then what happened?" Bellatrix asked. "Why would those two have had a reaction and no one else?" She put a hand to her mouth and sighed as she debated possible reasons and dismissed them all out of hand. "You weren't unconsciously thinking of them as you performed the spell or something along those lines, were you?"

"Not likely, Bella. Mr. Longbottom rarely rates a thought even when flubbing his way through my assignments. And I try to think of my stepson as little as possible if I can help it." Snape rolled his eyes. "The boy is enough of a bother in my life without invading my thoughts as well. I do have to find a way to get the Key back without arousing attention, though. I suppose I'll have to resort to a common ransacking of his room or interrogating him after class again. Assuming I can catch up with the little sneak. He's been disappearing after classes so quickly, I haven't been able to corner him."

Bella smirked. "I noticed that too. He and Granger have been running off like their robes were on fire after every bell. That, in short, is the cause of your next issue. You won't likely catch him anywhere, at least not for a couple of weeks. Just before I left the Hospital Wing, Minerva put the pair on punishment."

"For what now?" Snape snapped. "A few detentions from the Headmistress is hardly debilitating."

"It's not merely detention. She's going to have the two locked up in her office for the next while for Independent Study instead of going to classes. Apparently, she's finally through with them sneaking about the castle at all hours, going off where no one can find them."

"That boy and his girlfriend are as arrogant as his father's little gang, if not more. Is he going to wait until he gets them both into real trouble before he stops to think for once?"

Bella smiled and said in a high sing-song voice, "Aw, Sev. I didn't know you cared. Don't wish to become a grandfather so soon?"

He frowned. "No child of Potter's will be a grandchild of mine. And no, I do not care. I merely do not wish to hear my wife whining about how I should've protected her precious clone of James from his own stupidity again. If he's foolish enough to get caught, or worse yet, saddle that insufferable girl with his baby, he deserves whatever consequences he has coming."

Bellatrix nodded her agreement. "I don't understand the punishment, myself. Honestly, if Minerva thinks they're having sex in the castle, I don't know why she doesn't just expel them both. She recommended as much for me my seventh year."

"You would've been more likely to get expelled for nearly killing Professor Sinistra if anyone had known." At Bella's surprised expression, Snape added, "Oh, yes. Lucius thought your tale of 'almost accidentally' pushing a professor from the top of the Astronomy Tower was funny enough that he repeated it after you'd left school. Malfoy has always been the epitome of discretion.

"As for Potter and Granger, I suspect the true nature of the punishment will be depriving the girl of nagging her professors with never ending questions and incessantly attempting to upstage her classmates by proving she can memorize textbooks, while with Potter, the loss will be his time to chatter with his friends during class and show off during any in-class spell work." He paused. "Actually, it's a rather genius punishment for those two. Complete isolation and probably a daily lecture from Minerva about the virtues of propriety. They'll be suicidal by mid-week at the latest."

Bellatrix laughed. "So, how are you going to get to Harry? She'll probably keep them there from sunrise until just before common room curfew. I can't imagine you'll interrogate him in her office."

"No," Snape said. "I'll search his dorm on my own first. I'll find some essay for my class—" He glanced at the stack of failing papers he'd just finished grading. "As a matter of fact, I'll have them fix this mess they turned in the other day and use the time to search his things in the morning. If it's not there, I'll find a way to pay him a personal visit."

"And if he still won't give you the Key?"

Snape smiled. "I'm not above being creative if I need to be. I just hope it doesn't become necessary. We do have a bit more time."

Bellatrix was quiet for a long moment before she asked, "Are you sure you didn't direct some type of attack at Harry and Neville? For the life of me, I can't figure out what happened."

Snape rolled his eyes. "They're both weaklings, Bella. Did it ever occur to you that they simply couldn't handle being within range of such a powerful spell?"

"I suppose that's possible, but…you weren't there. It wasn't just a fainting spell."

"Then tell me what it was like," Snape said. "All you said before you rushed out of here earlier was that they'd collapsed and would be fine. What else was there?"

Bellatrix told him of the entire episode, from Neville's fall to the floor to both boys dissolving into some type of fit. When she finished, Snape was staring at the cage in the back corner of his office, seeming to study the sleeping snake inside.

"Are you sure of this hissing noise?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "It was quite strange. I don't think I've ever heard a human make a sound like that. For both of them to do it at the same time doesn't seem at all normal," Bella said. Snape looked at her in surprise. Her tone betrayed just how shaken she'd been by the experience, though she'd relaxed considerably since it happened. "Any ideas, Severus?"

"I'll have to ask the Dark Lord if he connected with the students somehow," Snape said softly. "From your description, it appears they may have been speaking Parseltongue. If that's the case, I'll have to wonder if the Boy Who Lived and my own dear stepson have some secrets they haven't shared since coming to Hogwarts." He glanced at the snake again. "In my experience, secrets of a certain magnitude can be of advantage to the people who are aware of them. If I have my way, Longbottom and Potter's secrets will serve the Dark Lord well."

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, he saw the Headmistress sitting at the foot of his bed, her eyes lingering over his face in the hazy light of the late afternoon. He turned his head to find Hermione still sitting steadfastly at his bedside, her thick hair obscuring her face as she dozed leaning onto his bed. He wasn't surprised to see that she remained. Her devotion to her position had outlasted not only the Headmistress and Nurse, but a number of their classmates who had come by to check on Harry and Neville before their next class. None of them had been able to persuade her to relax and look after herself. It was only her own worrying that had finally tired her out enough to put her head down at Harry's bedside, where she claimed she would "feel a change" if his condition worsened.

Harry smiled at Professor McGonagall and attempted to sit up, moving slowly so he wouldn't wake Hermione.

"Feeling better?" the Headmistress asked.

"Yes," he said. "I almost feel normal." It was true, this time. The dizziness and headache were gone in their entirety. Harry couldn't even feel that lingering sense of invasion he always dealt with anytime Voldemort got inside his head. Now there was nothing but the uneasy feeling that he was heading towards something he could scarcely understand. An uneasy feeling, but familiar all the same.

"From what you've gone through, I imagine that normal is not an apropos description often, Mr. Potter."

He nodded. "You spoke to the Minister last night?"

McGonagall stood and walked closer to the head of the bed, pulling her chair closer so she could continue their conversation in a lower tone. "He told me a very interesting tale about how the origin of your scar connects to your actions with a Time-Turner." She studied Harry's reaction for a few seconds before adding, "I'm having trouble seeing how all of this fits together."

"I understand that, I guess. It's hard to process if it's not happening to you," he said. "Even if you don't entirely understand, you did say you would help me with anything I need."

"Within reason," she responded. "I understand it was your choice not to tell the Minister the name of your attacker." McGonagall paused. "That was a wise decision. You see, everyone has their own ideas of what is acceptable in any given circumstance. You and the Minister may have one idea of how Professor Snape should be dealt with, while I may have another."

Harry nodded, not really understanding her point.

"I just want to make a few things clear before I help you further. I want to see justice done. I want the guilty parties to be convicted of wrongs they have clearly committed and no more." Her eyes narrowed on Harry's face. "I will not be a party to unwarranted attacks, public accusations merely to assuage any personal vendettas you may have or reckless actions that may result in any of the students getting hurt. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione responded. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes with one hand, stifling a yawn as she looked over Harry. "Everything we've told you and Minister Dumbledore so far is the absolute truth as we know it. If Harry were going to attack someone purely for personal reasons, I don't think we'd be investigating at all."

"An admirable sentiment Miss Granger, but I'd prefer to hear from Mr. Potter without your prompting this time."

"I think she's capable of speaking for me," Harry said. He wasn't bothered by McGonagall's answering frown. "I haven't lied to you about what I'm doing, who it involves or what I hope to accomplish. If you want me to tell you more about what we've been doing, I can do that. I can tell you everything. But, as I said before, I don't want you to react before we have time to prove anything."

"Like a Death Eater conspiracy involving you as the target victim?" she asked.

Harry didn't like the sarcastic note to her voice but could hardly blame her. If someone had come to him with a story like his before he'd known any of it was possible, he'd wonder if that person was either insane or a highly skilled liar.

"I'm not the victim, but yeah. Things like that. I could've told you everything about my background and what I did with the Time-Turner Monday, but would you have helped me if you'd known it all then?"

"Perhaps," McGonagall said. "Though, I have trouble believing the Death Eater story wasn't cooked up as an elaborate plan to separate your stepfather and mother."

Harry shook his head. "I hate him. I'm not going to deny that. If I had any proof my mother would believe, I'd let her know what he did to me and why. It's about more than me. They're going to do something horrible and we're the only ones that can do anything about it," he said, motioning between himself and Hermione.

"I also find it difficult to believe something so complex and dangerous can only be resolved by the involvement of two teenagers."

"If you'd seen what we have," Hermione said, "you would have less trouble believing it. Like Harry told the Minister, we can move around the school and get into things where adults, Aurors included, would stand out as suspicious."

McGonagall looked across the hospital wing to where Neville and Lavender lay side by side. Both students were still asleep. With a quick flick of her wand, she set a charm around both beds to keep their conversation from being overheard. She turned back to Harry and Hermione. "I think now would be a good time for you to tell me exactly who and what we're dealing with. I am prepared to accept the excuse for your Time-Turner use on faith for now, though I would like to examine a few of those memories before you transport them to the Minister. As for Death Eater activity at the school, I believe you owe me at least a cursory explanation for that theory."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick look as both thought over the benefits of stalling the explanation or telling only a part of the truth. After a minute of silence, Harry said, "You're right. You should know a lot more than what I've told you. We're going to need help before we go any further, anyway."

Thirty minutes later, the Headmistress was pacing back and forth next to Harry's bed. She was agitated, but Harry couldn't determine the exact reason why. She had said nothing when they explained about the notes they'd copied, their theory about Voldemort coming back, or the Key being stolen just before school started, resulting in Harry's hospitalization. She had merely listened and nodded, before getting up and walking near the bed in a nervous state, the slight movement of her lips as she thought over the information the only disturbance in her stoic expression. Finally, she stopped and faced them both.

"You're sure of Professor Lestrange?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "There's no person Voldemort would want by his side more. Other than Snape, I guess," he added, looking at Hermione for confirmation.

The Headmistress thought it over for another minute before resuming her seat next to Harry's bed. "You'll have to show me your copy of these papers you've found. If the originals are where you say, we'll have trouble connecting them to whoever stole them."

"But you think it can be done?" Hermione asked.

"It's possible," McGonagall said. "So much of what you've told me will be difficult to prove unless they get far enough in their plan to be caught in the act. But I don't wish it to go that far if it can be avoided." She tapped one finger on her chin as she thought, her gaze unfocused for a moment. "I think we'll leave it for now. We do have a little time. Tell me, Mr. Potter, what happened during your attack this morning? What can you remember?"

Unconsciously, Harry brought a hand up to his bandaged scar. The mention of what had happened brought phantom pains that disappeared as quickly as they came. "We were working on our potions and…I think it started with a headache. My scar has bothered me before, but usually only when Voldemort is near me or when he's feeling particularly strong emotion. Mostly anger. If it only tingles a little bit, I hardly notice it. When Neville collapsed, I wasn't feeling more than a few pains. I wasn't even paying attention to it. Then, suddenly it was so strong, it felt like my head was being split open from the inside. It felt like something was trying to pull me out of my body," he said.

"I think my eyes were open, but all I could see was red, bright red. Then…" Harry stopped and looked down at his hands in his lap. He had no desire to get into the rest of what he could remember. The entire episode was reminiscent of standing in Dumbledore's office months before, just after talking about the snake attack on Arthur Weasley, and feeling the sudden urge to strike Dumbledore himself. There had been a moment when he hadn't felt in control of himself, when his mind had been consumed with this foreign presence, and he had felt a rage so pure, it sent a small chill through his body to think of it now.

"You were both screaming," Hermione supplied. She put a hand over one of his. "Then you stopped and you started making this weird noise. It's hard to explain."

"That was Parseltongue," Harry said. "Voldemort—he was speaking through me, through both of us. I don't know how because no one knows where he is or how close he could be to the school. But he doesn't have to be close to connect to me," he added, turning to the Headmistress. "His connection with my mind has been pretty strong for a while now."

"What did he say?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry paused to think over the words again. "He said 'Upon my rise, the unworthy shall be destroyed, the penitent shall be forgiven and the loyal shall reap the rewards of the new order.' I'm not really sure who he could've been talking to, to be honest," Harry said. "It wasn't really a vision like I'm used to, just his voice. If he's around somewhere, he could've been talking to a follower or someone he was about to hurt. Or it might've been a thought he was having that was somehow transmitted to me and Neville."

"But how? Nothing about this is easy to understand, Harry," Hermione said. "Wouldn't he have to initiate contact for something like that to happen? He can't just speak through you without it being deliberate."

Harry shrugged. "Not all of his contact with me before now has been done on purpose. He can't always control it. Besides, in this reality, he's not supposed to have a connection with me at all. There's a chance this message was only meant for Neville," Harry said, looking across the room at their sleeping classmate. "If it was meant for anyone at all. More likely, something significant was happening with him at that moment and the connection was opened through that."

"Significant like what?" McGonagall asked.

"Like he's getting closer to what I want to prevent," Harry responded. "Whatever happened today, I think his supporters have put him in a much stronger position to come back. When that happens, I don't know who'll be able to stop him. After I heard part of the prophecy, I thought it would be me, but—"

McGonagall interrupted him. "The prophecy? Is there one that connects you and Voldemort?"

"There was," Harry corrected. "I never got to hear all of it. Just 'The Dark Lord shall mark him as equal,' and then 'He will have power the Dark Lord knows not.' Fourth year, he mentioned that people said I would be his downfall and I think the prophecy is connected to that somehow. It's why he wanted me in the Department of Mysteries. That's how I ended up in the fight that led to me coming here," he said. "I brought the prophecy with me, but after I changed my past, it won't show me anything anymore. It hasn't changed since last Sunday," he said. "I guess I rendered whatever power I had to fight him useless."

"Maybe not," Hermione said. "Right now you know more about him than anyone, including Death Eaters. Your connection to him is still there. All of that gives you the power to help prevent him coming back where no one else can guess what's going on. If Neville took your place as a child, I'd wager he took your place in the prophecy as well. If that's the case, you'll also be the best person to help him live through it if he has to fight. Together, the two of you can destroy the Dark Lord for good."

"Hermione, it sounds great when you say it like that, but it's not that easy. I don't know what's happening any more than anyone else and I've been dealing with this for years. That's one of the reasons I wanted to go through my memories," Harry said to Professor McGonagall. "Dumbledore told me it helped him remember things he'd forgotten. If there's some weakness, some clue in my memories, I want to find it. There's got to be something we can use."

"Have you extracted any of your memories yet?" McGonagall asked.

Harry shook his head. "I was too tired last night. From going over this stuff with Hermione," he added. "I got a chance to read a little of the book Dumbledore gave me during morning break, and I was going to try during lunch but…" He shrugged. "I wonder if Madam Pomfrey will clear me to leave so I can try now."

The Headmistress stood from the side of the bed. "While you were asleep, she said you could leave if you felt up to it once you woke up. You do feel well now?"

"Yes," Harry said. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, waiting in case his body proved him wrong. "I'm ready whenever you two are."

"I need to go to the dorm and get all of the papers. And the Pensieve," Hermione said.

"Would you mind grabbing the bag under my bed too?" Harry asked. "I want to check the prophecy again." Hermione nodded. Harry looked around the bed and patted the pockets of his robes before saying, "I don't have my wand. I need to go back to the dungeons to look for it. Where are our books?"

"I had them delivered to my office," Professor McGonagall said. "While you'll be doing the rest of your research during the day, you will still have to turn in homework assignments regularly to keep up appearances. You may remain in my office all day, except for sleep and breakfast. Lunch and dinner will be provided. You may use any of the books in my office. Ask if you need access to the Restricted Section of the library." At Hermione's surprised expression, she added, "I want this resolved as much as you Miss Granger. The fewer distractions and greater resources you have, the better chance you have of being successful."

"Thank you," Harry said.

Professor McGonagall nodded and turned to leave.

"What do you make of that?"

Hermione shrugged. "She knew what your mother went through when your dad died. She and the Minister were both there. Plus, there's the way he came after you at King's Cross. I think she wants to see him punished almost as much as you."

Harry stood from the bed and Hermione jumped to put her arm around him. "I doubt anyone wants to see him suffer anywhere near as much as I do, but it's good to know she won't get in the way. Right now, I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone who'll get in our way."


	29. Finding Connections

When Harry pushed open the door to the dungeon classroom, he nearly ran over Tonks. She had let her hair change into a fluorescent pink, startlingly out-of-place in the dark room.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Are you still inspecting? I thought you'd be done by now."

"I was done hours ago, but I had to come back." She motioned to the room at large. Chairs were still scattered from where students had pushed them to rush out of the room. The cauldrons had all been emptied and returned to storage along with the potions ingredients. "I can't understand what happened here. There's no trace of any poisons, no dark objects, no traces of a curse in the room or on either you or Neville." She turned to him and dark green eyes locked with his. "Are you feeling okay now?"

"I'm fine," Harry responded. "I don't know what happened either, just—" He paused, wondering briefly if he should tell her what had really happened to him. What little he understood of it. Quickly, he decided against it. If Dumbledore had wanted the Auror involved, he wouldn't have asked for his reports to be delivered to Tonks sealed. "Maybe it's one of those things that'll never be explained," he finished lamely. "You haven't seen a wand in here by any chance? I dropped mine."

"Oh, yeah." She pulled a wand from her pocket and handed it to him. "Found that next to one of the cauldrons at the front."

Harry ran his fingers over the smooth holly surface. "Yeah, this is—" A small scratch in the surface caused him to study the wand closer. It looked exactly like the wand he'd been given when he was eleven, except for one thing. Near the bottom of the handle, someone had carved the initials 'NL' into the wood. "This is my roommate's," Harry said. "I'll make sure Neville gets it back." He slipped it into his pocket.

Tonks nodded and looked around the room one more time. "I'm going to leave. I've got to send a message to the Minister about what happened here."

"Tonks," Harry said as she began to turn away. "Don't forget your disguise."

She blinked and changed her hair and eye color quickly. "The Minister said you knew a little more about me than you'd let on."

Harry smiled. "I know a lot of things I haven't let on. Be careful around here."

Tonks returned his smile. "I should be giving you that advice. Let me know if you need any help, Harry."

"I will."

When she left the room, Harry pulled out Neville's wand and held it out. Curious, he attempted a couple of small spells, not at all surprised when the wand responded to him easily, feeling completely natural in his hand. With a quick Summoning Charm, he found his own wand and compared the two side by side. As he had suspected, they were identical except for Neville's initials at the bottom of his wand. Harry supposed that was one more thing he and Neville had in common. Another thing to connect them in the continuing fight against Voldemort.

"Harry, just take a minute and start again," Hermione said. "It's okay if you don't get it right tonight."  
Harry lowered his wand and sighed. "No, I'm going to get it tonight. I'm just tired." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Would it be possible for you to do this for me? If I picture the memory or something?"

"It is possible, yes," she said. "It's not entirely safe, though. Especially at your age. You should do it yourself. What may help is if you close your eyes and try to clear your mind of all thoughts, erase all emotions."

Harry sighed. "Like doing Occlumency. It's no wonder I'm having trouble."

She nodded. "It is similar. Just focus entirely on one memory and relax yourself. Once you've done it, it'll be easier to do each subsequent time."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. After two more failed attempts at retrieving the memory, Hermione said, "Hold on, keep your eyes closed," and he heard her moving around the office. He smelled the faint scent of her peach conditioner before he felt her fingers on the back of his head, running through his hair. Harry opened his eyes.

"What are you doing?" He raised both eyebrows and frowned at her. "This is hardly the time."

She smiled and leaned closer. "I'm just helping you relax. It will work. Close your eyes."

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes again and took a series of slow, deep breaths, clearing his mind of everything but the memory of the troll attacking Hermione in the girl's bathroom first year. He felt one of Hermione's hands lift his wand arm closer to his head and the next thing Harry knew, there was a curious tickling sensation at his temple. He opened his eyes and watched in fascination as a silvery liquid-like substance trailed from the end of his wand to his temple, where it clung until he pulled it away with a jerk. Walking to the desk, he lowered the memory into the Pensieve in front of Professor McGonagall and watched in fascination as the memory swirled in the basin.

"Thanks, Hermione. That wasn't so bad," Harry said.

"What memory is it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry grinned. He hadn't told her anything about his past and he reckoned Dumbledore hadn't clued her in either. She was in for a shock. "When Professor Quirrell was being possessed by Voldemort first year, he let a troll into the school on Halloween as a diversion so he could get to the Philosopher's Stone hidden in the school."

McGonagall merely stared at Harry, not sure if he was picking a poor time to make a joke. Hermione caught Harry's expression and fought down her own smile.

"Honest, Professor," Harry said. "This memory shows Ron and I going into the girls' bathroom to get Hermione after Dumbledore had ordered everyone back to the dorms."

"Why didn't you listen?"

"Why would you have to come get me?" Hermione asked. "Wouldn't I have come out at some point?"

Harry shrugged. "Ron had said…something not nice about you and you overheard it. According to Parvati, you'd been in there all afternoon crying. Actually, we locked the troll in there by accident and when we figured out it was the same bathroom you were in, we couldn't just leave you in there."

"This is sounding more and more like a Muggle fiction story, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged again. "You wanted to see some of my memories before I send them to the Minister. This is probably one of the least important ones that relates to Voldemort, but I figured he'd want to see this one too. And Hermione," he said, smiling. "She didn't believe me when I told her we'd fought a troll and won."

"Still not sure I do," she said, leaning over the Pensieve. Professor McGonagall stood behind her desk. "Are you coming with us?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'll try to extract all of the relevant ones from first year while you watch that one. I think I'll be able to do the charm without a problem now."

Hermione nodded and walked around McGonagall's desk to take her hand. Without another word to Harry, Professor McGonagall reached into the Pensieve and they were both sucked into the memory.

What seemed like a short time later, Hermione and Professor McGonagall emerged from the Pensieve and into the office, Hermione fighting a laugh and the Headmistress looking concerned.

"I never thought I'd see anything like that," Hermione said. She finally succumbed to her giggles as she plopped onto the chair next to Harry.

"Me either. In this school, no less." Professor McGonagall resumed the seat behind her desk. "It's a miracle the three of you weren't killed."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure you'll find a reason to say that about me at least once every school term." He pointed at the row of small glass vials on the desk. "I've done a few more if you want to see the rest of the important stuff from first year. The next one is when Hermione, Draco, Ron, Neville and I had detention in the forest and Voldemort came after me." He pointed to the second in the row. "This is when we discovered the trapdoor concealing the Philosopher's Stone with Fluffy guarding it."

"That beast Professor Hagrid keeps in the forest?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"What's Fluffy again?" Hermione asked.

"A giant three-headed dog."

Hermione leaned forward and grinned. "Ooh, I want to see that one."

"Perhaps we should stick to watching the ones that may help us with our quest for now. If you'd like to experience some of the less serious moments, I'm sure the weekend will suffice for that," McGonagall said.

Harry nodded his agreement. He pointed at the next vial. "This one is when Ron, Hermione and I went under the trapdoor to get the Philosopher's Stone so Quirrell couldn't steal it. It's pretty long, so you may not want to watch it tonight. The last one is after I woke up in the Hospital Wing, when Dumbledore explained to me about the Stone and a little about Voldemort. I should probably label these or put them in order or something."

"I'll do it," Hermione said. She picked up the first vial and pointed her wand at it, muttering under her breath until a small white label appeared bearing the number three and the words 'Voldemort – forest.' She replaced the vial on the desk and numbered the other three. Then she pulled the first memory from the Pensieve, put it into a vial and labeled that one.

"You've got to teach me that later," Harry said.

"No, I don't think so," Hermione responded. "You'll need to keep me around for something."

"I'm sure there's plenty I could keep you around for."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and both students turned to her, suddenly remembering another person was in the room. "As it's almost dark, I think we'll view the next one on the list and then adjourn for the night."

"Would it be possible for me to take notes as we watch?" Hermione asked. "I'm not sure I'll be able to remember everything after seeing it one time. What does the book say about bringing objects into a Pensieve, Harry?"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Miss Granger. In the small likelihood that you forget any detail, Mr. Potter can just make an additional copy of the memory after he delivers these. The Extraction Charm he is using is not a permanent removal like the one the Minister would most likely employ." McGonagall stood and picked up the detention memory vial. "Come, Mr. Potter. This is one you'll likely need to review again as it was so long ago."

Harry stood and joined the two of them as they entered the memory, and the forest where he'd first come into contact with Voldemort after starting at Hogwarts. Two hours later, they all emerged from the Pensieve, shaken by what they'd seen.

"You-Know-Who was feeding on unicorns," Hermione said. "That's horrid. I wish I hadn't seen it."

"I should have Professor Hagrid check the forest for the same type of activity now," Professor McGonagall said. She leaned back in her chair. "I now see what you meant about how his nearness affects you."

"The feeling was similar this morning," Harry said. "Only it hurt a lot worse than I remember from first year."

"If he did initiate some type of contact with you earlier, it's possible he's living in the forest and feeding off of some of the creatures there. If Professor Hagrid finds anything suspicious, it could also indicate whether he is still without a body as you two have theorized," McGonagall said.

"He could ask the centaurs if they've seen anything unusual. A few of them are friendly enough with him that they might give him information," Harry said.

"I'll see to it in the morning. In the meantime, I suggest you two return to your common room," McGonagall said. "Stay in Gryffindor tower tonight," she said as the two students stood. "I was serious about the two of you needing adequate rest…and close supervision if necessary."

"We promise to stay put," Hermione said. "After watching all of that, I don't think I have the strength to read through the Minister's notes or look at Potions books anyway."

"Can we just leave everything here?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I'll leave the Pensieve in it's box behind my desk and I'll put the Minister's notes underneath it. You may leave your bags here as well. If I'm not here in the morning after breakfast, you may start without me."

"Good night, Professor," Harry said. Taking his hand, Hermione echoed his words and they left the Headmistress's office.

"So, what did you really think, Hermione?"

She looked at him with sad eyes as they walked. "You were right. It was a lot scarier than I thought and I couldn't even see him properly. I'm afraid to even think about your memories from the graveyard."

"You know, you don't have to watch them if you're scared," Harry said. "Professor McGonagall can watch and tell you if any of the information was helpful."

"No," Hermione said. "I'm willing to do anything to help. She and I might see different things. Besides, it helps to know you survived all of it to come here. In some ways you were lucky."

He shrugged as they neared the portrait guarding their common room. "I didn't always feel lucky. After the last week or so, I don't think much has changed."

Hermione stopped walking and drew Harry close to her, pulling his arms around her waist. She slipped her arms around his neck. "I know everything didn't work out the way you expected, but you're luckier than you may realize. You've got your mother and Raven now. You've got Professor McGonagall and the Minister giving you as much help as they can, more direct help than you got before, right?"

He nodded his agreement.

"And you've got me." She leaned up onto her toes and kissed him briefly. "I don't care what Snape or anyone else has got planned. From now on, if they want to get to you, they have to go through me."

Harry managed a small chuckle at her serious expression. "If Voldemort knew I had the great Hermione Granger on my side, he'd be right scared. Would never try anything."

"If he was smart," Hermione responded. Before he could think of some other smart aleck response, Hermione had pulled him into a goodnight kiss. He let her comfort him the best way she could at that moment and then held her for a long while before they headed into the common room and separated into their dorms.


	30. Defensive Measures

The moment he walked into the Great Hall, Harry felt of a sense of déjà vu he could've done without. As he crossed the room, the eyes of nearly every student turned to him. Most looked and then quickly turned away, whispering as he went past. A few stared, openly wondering a number of things about the Deputy Headmaster's stepson. He heard a few traces of conversation as he headed to the Gryffindor table. Rumors ranged from an in-class battle that had ended with he and Neville nearly dead to Professor Lestrange allowing students to test potions on each other—with one of them slipping in a poison. By the time he reached the end of the long table where Hermione waited, Harry was reminiscing about the simple days when Rita Skeeter was openly speculating about his love life. At least those rumors were mildly laughable.

Hermione pushed a full plate in front of him the minute he sat down. Harry smiled at her and looked around, not surprised to see the eyes of the most of the Gryffindor table straining to see him in the corner. Neville stopped eating and offered Harry a faint smile.

"See you're getting the special treatment too," Neville said. "Thought it would just be me."

Harry nodded and began eating his breakfast. He couldn't imagine what Neville was thinking. He'd gotten used to being stared at for one reason or another after he'd come to Hogwarts, but Neville probably hadn't seen even half the attention he had, even being The Boy Who Lived. Harry reasoned it was easier being orphaned by Voldemort if your scar wasn't in an obvious place and nothing unusual happened around you—like professors attempting to kill you. More than once. Harry looked up and a few people at the Hufflepuff table turned away, whispering as they leaned over their breakfast plates.

"It's really rude," Ron said over the quiet table. Harry looked across the table in surprise. Ron had hardly eaten anything this morning and he was picking at the food in front of him like it might be poisoned. "No one knows what happened and everyone's saying you might have tried to kill each other. Stupid, really."

"Of course it's stupid," Hermione said. She rubbed Harry's back in support. "They were both just—" She broke off and caught Harry's eyes, silently asking him what she should say.

"They were both just what?" Lavender asked. She reached for Neville's hand on the table and entwined her fingers with his. "One minute Neville was fine and the next he was screaming on the floor. Harry collapsed after that, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well then, what happened? I was sitting next to him and I didn't feel anything. There wasn't a spell shot past me, not that I could see."

"You believe someone could've sent a spell that would do that?" Parvati asked from Hermione's other side. "Who was in the room that would have done that?"

"What other explanation is there?" Lavender asked. "What do you two know that we don't? You spent most of last night in Professor McGonagall's office. Did you get in trouble for it?"

"For what?" Harry asked.

Neville shot her a stricken look. "Harry did not attack me. He was hurt too. He spent almost as much time in the hospital wing as I did."

"Yes, but he recovered a lot sooner. Maybe it was something he's used to." Lavender frowned at Harry and jabbed her fork at her plate.

Harry almost choked on his next bite of food at this. For someone who was speculating out of nowhere, she'd guessed pretty close to the truth. Then again, what had happened the morning before wasn't something that had happened too often, scar or no. If Voldemort had temporarily possessed them both, it was a relatively new experience.

"I don't really know what happened," Harry began. He lowered his voice when he realized a few people further down the table had quieted down as he began to speak. "We weren't in Professor McGonagall's office for that. She's punishing us for sneaking off at night."

Ron chuckled. "You two still getting in trouble for that? You're lucky she hasn't expelled you."

"She won't," Hermione said. "We haven't done anything wrong." She pushed her empty plate to the center of the table and picked up her glass of juice. "She's just making an example of us. Honestly! All because we don't like to study in the noisy common room."

Parvati laughed, quickly joined by Lavender. "Come off it, Hermione. You two have a history. She has a right to be concerned. I'm surprised your parents didn't pull you out of school after what happened last spring."

Hermione put down her glass hard enough to splash some of the contents onto the table. "Because we didn't do anything wrong then or now." She put a hand on Harry's back again. "After meeting Harry, they understood that."

"It didn't hurt that Harry's mum wrote to them," Parvati added, still smiling.

"I still don't understand what happened yesterday," Ron said. "You were both screaming loud enough to wake the dead and Neville was shaking and—"

"And you both were bloody," Lavender said. "Neville's scar has never bothered him before." She reached up a hand to trace the jagged edge of skin along his jaw, just beneath his right ear. "Out of nowhere, it starts gushing blood and gives him a headache that lasts half the night. Madam Pomfrey said she's never seen anything like it.." She turned and peered at Harry, seeming to notice something different for the first time. "Harry, when did you get a scar? What is it from?"

The eyes of several students in the vicinity turned to him and Harry felt his face flush with warmth when he realized everyone was now staring at his scar. "I got into it with someone over the summer. A pretty bad curse gave me this." He bit into a piece of toast.

"I figured as much or it would've healed by now," Lavender said. "What happened? What kind of curse was it?"

"The kind he doesn't want to talk about," Hermione said. "It has nothing to do with what happened in class."

Harry swallowed his food, amazed at Hermione's ability to lie without breaking a sweat. He knew they couldn't tell anyone, not even their roommates, what was going on with Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange, but it was hard for him to not tell Neville the truth when the attack had affected him so badly. He knew how scared Neville would have to be after what happened. He also knew what it felt like to have the person who knew the most about what was going on keeping him in the dark. Harry felt guilty about that, but he also knew that telling Neville, or anyone else, any part of the truth could put them both in even more danger. That was another thing he had to worry about now. How Voldemort coming back might affect The Boy Who Lived and how to protect him from something he would never see coming. How was it all connected?

"Harry, what do you know?" Lavender pressed. He heard Hermione sigh next to him. "Professor McGonagall was really upset yesterday, but she said there was nothing for any of us to worry about. I think she's hiding something." She paused. "So are you."

"Lavender," Neville started. He put his fork down and frowned at her. "Harry is my friend. If there was something going on, he'd tell me." He looked across the table at Harry. "Right?"

"Yeah, of course." Harry looked away quickly and started swirling his fork through the scrambled eggs on his plate.

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem like a good enough explanation. There's got to be more—"

"Lavender, please," Neville said. "You don't have to be worried about me all the time. It's bad enough Gran threatened to walk me to all of my classes to make sure I stay safe."

Ron almost choked on his mouthful of food. Harry was glad to see he'd started eating. There was definitely something off about Ron sitting with a mostly untouched plate of food in front of him. Ron mumbled something through the scrambled eggs stuffed into his mouth.

"Chew and swallow," Parvati said, rolling her eyes.

Ron chewed hard for a few seconds and then swallowed. His eyes were wide as he turned to Neville. "You didn't tell me that's what her letter said. Just that she wanted to help them investigate."

"She wants to do more than that," Neville said. "She wants to personally inspect everyone in our class, and their wands." He shook his head. "It's like without my parents around, she feels like she has to do both their jobs, and help the teachers and half the Ministry if anything goes wrong. She didn't get this upset when I broke my leg. It's not like Professor McGonagall is going to let anything happen to us."

"Tell her not to worry," Harry said. Several pair of eyes whipped over to him again. He felt the urge to move his hair in front of his scar. "Ms. Diggory told me there was nothing suspicious about the class and no trace of a curse on either of us."

"That's the woman from the Improper Use of Magic office, right?" Neville asked. Harry nodded.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "She looks like she's barely out of school herself. How do we know she's even doing a thorough job? What we need is an Auror."

"What we need is to stop acting like it's the end of the world," Hermione said. Lavender turned a glare on her. "Whatever happened is obviously over and they're both fine. Why can't we leave it at that?"

"What if it happens again?" she asked.

"Then you have my permission to debate every possible scenario and worry Neville to death instead of being grateful he lived through it," Hermione responded.

Lavender's mouth dropped open. "So you admit it could've been something life-threatening? I knew one of you knew more than you were saying. If you don't—"

Neville clapped one hand over her mouth and held it there, calmly reaching for a piece of toast with his other hand. "So, you're feeling all right, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He was trying not to smile, but the sight of Lavender being forcibly kept silent—something he'd been tempted to do a couple of times himself—was remarkably funny. Ron had no such qualms about laughing at the sight. "I don't think we're ever going to hear a reasonable explanation for it," Harry said. "If they didn't figure it out by last night, that's probably the last we've heard of it."

Neville nodded. "I figured the same thing." Noticing she had stopped attempting to yell, he released Lavender. "If it was something that randomly hit two students, it probably wasn't even in the class. That would explain why no one else got hurt."

"That, and what you have in common," Parvati said. Harry turned to her. She looked nervous about what she was going to say next.

"What is that?" Hermione asked.

"They both—well, I think they're the only ones in our class who have scars from a curse. Most curses don't leave a mark at all," she said. "But both of you have one that hasn't healed. We know how Neville got his." Parvati stopped and looked at Harry, leaving him an opening to tell everyone the origin of his scar.

He looked down at his empty plate.

"Maybe there was something going on that only affects people with—people who have had curses put on them." Parvati looked around as she finished. Everyone seemed to be watching either Harry or Neville to see how they would react to this suggestion.

"I still think it's nothing to be concerned about," Hermione said. She leaned her head onto Harry's shoulder. "As long as they're both fine and nothing else happens to them, I don't care about yesterday."

Lavender nodded, speechless for once, and smiled as Neville put an arm around her.

"Oh my, isn't this cozy?" Harry felt Hermione stiffen against his side and pull her arm tighter around his waist as Snape came up behind him. "I see you're keeping it toned down with others in the room."

Harry closed his eyes briefly before looking over his shoulder. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Snape glared down at him. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you can. You can tell me why you're determined to hurt your mother. She was already worried about whatever you were up to in class that got another student hurt, and now you've gotten yourself into a punishment I personally wouldn't have granted you." He moved his eyes briefly to include Hermione. "With the way you two have been going, you're lucky you're still at Hogwarts." Before Harry could open his mouth to respond, Snape added, "You had better be careful. I warned you last week to stay in line, but it appears you did not heed my advice. Perhaps I should have a discussion with the Headmistress about going so easy on you. Maybe I should take over your punishment myself."

Without thinking, Harry rose up from the table and moved close enough to make his stepfather take a step back. A few students turned around to watch the confrontation. "I think being related to you in any way is punishment enough," Harry said. There was a gasp from the table behind him, but Harry ignored it. Hermione tugged at his hand, trying to get him to sit again.

Snape's eyes narrowed on his face and he grabbed the front of Harry's robes. "That's enough to get you sent home to mummy, Potter. Now would be a good time for you to get upstairs and pack." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You'll definitely be safer out of my way."

Harry pulled his robes out of Snape's hands, sending the wizard stumbling back a step. "I'm not going anywhere, especially not because of you," he said, not caring that he was loud enough for half the Great Hall to hear him.

"Harry!"

He ignored Hermione. "It's driving you crazy, isn't it? You can't push me around here or anywhere else and you can't stand it," Harry said. "You're a bully to me because you can't get over what happened with my dad when you were kids. It's kind of pathetic, really. You could hardly defend yourself then, and you've resorted to picking on schoolchildren now."

Snape grabbed his robes again and pulled him forward; Harry's heels lifted from the ground as he twisted from side to side to get away. "Oh, you're proud of the kind of boy your father was? Is that why you want to be just like him, you delinquent little—"

"Severus!" Professor McGonagall walked briskly down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, wand pointed at the two of them. "Put him down now."

Reluctantly, Snape let Harry go, but not before giving him one last glare. When she reached them, he said, "The boy is an insubordinate monster, not to mention—"

"I don't care if he lit his common room on fire, there is no excuse for manhandling a student, relative or no." She turned to Harry. "You know better than to provoke an argument with anyone, particularly with the trouble you're already in."

"But Professor, he—"

"Not another word, Mr. Potter. I may have to add another week to your punishment and prevent you from attending breakfast with everyone as well if you cannot at least be civilized the few minutes a day you're allowed to socialize."

Harry frowned and nodded, not wanting to argue back anymore. It was pointless anyway. She was just trying to keep Snape from killing him in full view of the rest of the school.

McGonagall pointed at Harry and Hermione. "Both of you to my office, now," she said. "The portraits will report to me if you stop at any point along the way or get into any trouble. Move." McGonagall turned back to Snape, not watching to see if Hermione and Harry obeyed.

"I know you know better, Severus." She lowered her voice, cognizant of the students who remained glued to that morning's entertainment. "If you have an issue with your stepson, I strongly suggest you handle it through me from now on. I do not want a repeat of what happened this morning."

"I understand, Minerva," he said, his voice calmer than it had been only moments before. "I just wished to address the boy's punishment." He looked over her shoulder as Harry and Hermione joined hands and began walking out, Hermione tugging Harry out of earshot until he went willingly. "As his only parent in the school, I need to deal with his disciplinary problems before they get out of hand. There's a great deal I must get through to that boy, the sooner, the better." He took a step towards the door.

"I am dealing with them both, Severus," McGonagall said, standing in his way as Harry and Hermione left the Great Hall. "Unless you don't feel I'm capable of handling a matter of student discipline."

"No, I—of course you can handle it," he responded.

"Then do not interfere," she said. "I am controlling everything that goes on around Harry for the time being. As his _parent_, you may have trouble being objective about his discipline. I have no such issues. Don't concern yourself with him." McGonagall turned and followed the two students then, missing the look of curious surprise that briefly crossed Snape's face before he renewed his normal apathetic expression.


	31. Necessary Reminders

"Harry, what is wrong with you?" Hermione had followed him at a run after they'd left the Great Hall, reserving her lecture for when they'd reached the Headmistress's office.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he said. He walked behind McGonagall's desk and picked up the Pensieve box. "Did you hear what he said to me? He blamed me for what happened yesterday in front of everyone."

"I know, but you can't lose your temper like that," Hermione said.

"Why? What's he going to do to me that he hasn't already done?" Harry shouted. He threw the box onto the desk. "I'm already as good as dead. There's nothing for me to lose. Let him take his best shot."

With all the strength she could muster, Hermione slapped him. She screamed her frustration, shoving him away and slapping him again when he reached for her.

"Better you than me, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, stepping into her office. She turned to Harry, one arm out to hold Hermione back. "I have never seen a student put on such a silly display in this school. What have you got to say for yourself?"

Harry turned away from both pairs of censuring eyes. Neither of them could understand what it was like to have to live with this man doing his best to hurt them in two different lives. That was another thing he hadn't been able to escape. Harry turned back to Professor McGonagall where she stood angrily tapping her foot, one arm around Hermione who looked ready to hit him again.

"He blamed me for what happened yesterday, loud enough for everyone to hear. Knowing it was probably something he did to cause it." Before Professor McGonagall could speak, Harry added, "Plus, he's been lying to my mother about me, probably for years. He's trying to turn her against me. What am I supposed to do? I'm going to have to kill him and she'll blame me afterwards."

The Headmistress gasped and there was a general murmur of dissent from the portraits around the room. "You are not going to kill anyone," she said. "Further, you are not going to disrupt this school anymore. Do I have to lock you in this office day and night in order for you to get a hold of yourself?"

"No, but you can't expect me to just take it when he starts in on me like that."

"I can and I do," she said. "I am dealing with him. You will do whatever you can to save yourself and figure out what he is up to. I don't want you going anywhere near him again or I may not be able to intervene next time."

"But what if—"

"No, Mr. Potter." McGonagall's eyes shot up and she quickly aimed her wand at the portrait of Dumbledore behind her desk. "No more excuses. I've already told you how I feel about your personal grudge. If you can't control your attitude and your actions, I will not be able to help you," she said. She sighed and turned away from him briefly. "A change in the past has done nothing to alter your personality. You're still the same headstrong, temperamental child I've had to discipline more times than I like to remember."

"Then why am I still here?" Harry asked. "If I'm such a troublemaker at the school, why haven't I been expelled before now?"

"Because she cares about you," Hermione said. "Don't you get that? We both do." She wiped at her eyes with one sleeve. "I'm starting to question why. You've made me cry more in the last week than all the time I've known you. Harry, we both want to help you, but if you can't give us the chance to do that, if you keep going off and looking for a reason for him to hurt you, I'm not going to do it. I can't."

She swallowed hard and pulled her eyes away from his, staring at a point on the wall to his right. "I will not put myself through all of this for it to end in a battle in the middle of the school. This is the last time I'm going to argue with you about it. If you'd like us to give you up for dead now, just say the word."

"Of course I don't want you to do that." He brought one hand up to his face. His skin still stung where Hermione had slapped him. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, but I can't help it."

"Yes, you can," Hermione said. "You will or you'll die. It's that simple."

_I might do that anyway_, he thought.

McGonagall moved away from Hermione then, going to sit behind her desk as the two students glared at each other across the room. Hermione was nearly shaking in her anger and frustration; Harry had been enraged to the point of forgetting what they were fighting to save. Slowly, they both began to calm down as they realized the other did not want to continue the fight.

Harry turned to Professor McGonagall and said quietly, "I think it's time I show you what happened in the Chamber with Professor Quirrell and Voldemort." He turned to Hermione. "Whenever you're ready."

Hermione stared at him for another few seconds before saying, "That's fine." She turned to the Headmistress. "Do you mind telling us what you did earlier? To the portrait?"

McGonagall smiled. "The Minister has a tendency to pop into my office when he finds it convenient to listen in. I turned off his method of communication."

"Won't he be upset?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sure he will, Miss Granger, but he cannot do anything about it. He normally uses it when he is too busy to leave his own office. If he has something to say to me, he'll have to clear his schedule and come to the school." McGonagall smiled again. "This should assure you that all of your discussions here will be private. Any information or speculation discussed will remain between us until you decide to include the Minster. Also, no one will be able to enter this office while you are here, even if they have the password, without permission from me first."

She reached into the box then and put the Pensive onto her desk. Selecting the correct memory, she poured the vial's contents into the basin and watched them swirl. "Ready?" Both students nodded and they entered the memory of Harry retrieving the Philosopher's Stone.

Hours later, they emerged from the Pensieve. They sat in chairs around the desk, and Hermione was the first to speak. "What happened after you passed out?"

"When I woke up in the hospital wing a few days later, that memory there," he said, pointing, "Dumbledore told me he'd come back to the school before you could get your message to him. He'd realized something was wrong. He showed up not too long after I passed out, got Professor Quirrell away from me and the Stone. Then he had a talk with Nicholas Flamel and the Stone was destroyed."

"Professor Quirrell had a very strange reaction when he touched your skin," Professor McGonagall remarked.

"Yes, because of the blood protection my mother gave me," Harry said. "I mentioned it last night. I don't think even Dumbledore entirely understands it. Quirrell died after having contact with me down in the chamber. Voldemort wasn't able to touch me until fourth year when he found a way to create a new body with my blood."

"With a formula similar to the potion in the Minister's notes?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "I don't know if all of the ingredients are the same, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's pretty close. He wanted my blood to work with because he thought it would make it easier for him to kill me." Harry paused. "Do we need to get Neville involved in this? It seems like we might have to at some point."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Our collapse, what happened to his parents; he should have the same blood protection I do. If he took my place in the prophecy, Voldemort or his followers might come after him. We even have the same wand." At their look of confusion, Harry said, "When I bought my wand, Mr. Ollivander told me Voldemort had one with the same core, a tail feather from a phoenix that had only given two. It connects my wand to Voldemort's. After he dropped his yesterday, I noticed that Neville had been given the same one I have now. There's got be something to that connection."

"We should ask the Minister if there's something about Fawkes that draws him to either of you."

"Fawkes?" Hermione asked.

"That's right, Dumbledore's phoenix gave the feathers for both our wands," Harry said. "I had forgotten that."

"There's a lot of power in phoenix feathers," Hermione said. "It wouldn't surprise me if it helped you fight him."

"Hardly. When I had to fight Voldemort directly, our wands connected and it created _Priori Incantatem_."

"You can't fight each other," McGonagall said. "At least, not using your own wands."

"But what if it was me and Neville at the same time?" Harry asked. "Would we be able to overpower him together if we had to? That's a power Voldemort wouldn't know about."

"Do you really want to bring someone else into this?" McGonagall asked. "I don't want to involve another student if we don't have to. I am hoping to avoid Voldemort coming back at all, let alone a direct confrontation." She sat back in her desk and drummed her fingers on the top. "I'll tell the Minister to give Augusta Longbottom protection if the time comes, along with your mother and sister, Harry. In the meantime, I don't want to worry Mr. Longbottom about something that may not happen."

"He's already worried," Hermione said. "Lavender isn't helping. She's blaming Harry because she think he's hiding the truth. After what happened this morning, I think a few more people may question if he caused their collapse or something."

"It doesn't matter," the Headmistress said. "As long as Mr. Longbottom realizes you are not a danger to him, the other students can say what they will. I can talk to him personally if you wish. But the rumors will persist no matter what we do. And we won't be defending them physically anymore, will we?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to be in the same room with Snape if I can help it. I'll avoid a confrontation if I am, though," he added, catching her questioning look.

"Good. Harry, can you work on the memories from your second year of school? I'm going to send a message down to the kitchens for lunch."

Harry nodded and pulled his wand from his pocket as McGonagall left the room. When she returned a few minutes later, a row of filled and labeled vials sat in a row across her desk, separated from the vials for first year. McGonagall stood behind her desk and conjured a table behind Harry. Within seconds, three place settings and several steaming dishes and drinks appeared on the table.

"Why don't you tell me what these memories are while we eat?"

As McGonagall and Hermione sat down and began fixing themselves plates, Harry said, "You'll probably find these a lot more disturbing than first year. Ginny Weasley was given a diary containing a memory of Tom Riddle and it possessed her, forced her to open the Chamber of Secrets and several students were attacked by a Basilisk."

McGonagall began coughing, choking on the drink she'd just attempted to swallow. "I have to remember to brace myself whenever you begin telling me about your past. The Minister warned me you had been attacked every year, but I didn't know how far it had gone with other students."  
Harry nodded and began to fill his plate. "It's a lot to take in. A few of these memories are long. You're not neglecting your duties at the school, are you?"

She smiled. "No, I am not. Unless there is an emergency, the school runs itself for the most part. All of the professors know I am unavailable except for extreme cases while I am dealing with a particularly difficult student," she turned to Hermione, "and the star pupil he has corrupted."

Harry laughed. "Is that what I've done? Hermione's never been the kind of person to let someone else tell her what to do."

"She also never got into trouble until she got her first boyfriend," McGonagall said.

Hermione shook her head and blushed. Harry thought she was using her mouthful of food to avoid making a comment on the interesting nature of their relationship.

"The first memory is when I went to Flourish and Blotts with the Weasleys just before school started. Lucius Malfoy slipped the diary into Ginny's cauldron before we left. I didn't even remember that until ages after it happened. We don't need to watch that one, but the Minister will want to see it."

"Do you think he'd have the diary now?" Hermione asked.

"I don't see why not," Harry said. "Though, if he tried it again, it would be easy enough to seal off the Chamber because I already know where it is. Finding the diary among the current students would be easy as well since I know what it looks like. The second memory is a meeting of the dueling club run by Professor Lockhart."

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes. "The day I let that man teach at Hogwarts is the day I let students camp in the forest overnight. He couldn't teach defensive techniques to first years."

"You know his books are fake?" Harry asked. He was surprised. He'd thought everyone believed Lockhart's stories.

McGonagall stared at him, both eyebrows raised. "No, but it doesn't surprise me at all. The exaggerated wording, the lack of witnesses to any of these major events—it's a wonder no one has called him out on it before."

"Memory charms," Hermione said. "I don't know about the witnesses, but he Obliviates the witches and wizards who do the actual work."

McGonagall sighed. "Even the fools who only want attention can't be trusted. To say nothing of those who crave power. What comes next, Mr. Potter?"

"While we were dueling, Draco tried to attack me with a snake. That was how everyone discovered I speak Parseltongue and that's why I became a suspect, to the students at least, for opening the Chamber. The next few are memories I have of finding people who had been attacked, another reason I became a suspect. No one had looked at the Basilisk directly, so they were only Petrified. There's another of Ron and I finding out that Professor Hagrid never opened the Chamber, even though everyone thought he had caused Moaning Myrtle's death."

"Well, of course he didn't," the Headmistress stated. "I never believed it. He might have a predilection for dangerous creatures, but he'd never put anyone into any real danger."

Harry thought not-so-fondly of the Blast-Ended Skrewts Hagrid had bred. He decided not to contradict her. "There's a memory of me getting the diary and experiencing one of Tom Riddle's memories myself, when he had decided to frame Hagrid after Myrtle died. Then another of me and Ron using Polyjuice Potion to question Draco when we suspected him of opening the Chamber."

"Polyjuice Potion? Where'd you get that?" McGonagall asked. "Surely, Dumbledore didn't give it to you."

Harry smiled. "Hermione brewed it in the second floor girls' bathroom."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "I'm going to have to see that one to believe it."

"It doesn't surprise me a bit, Miss Granger. Even in your second year, you were an exceptional student."

Hermione smiled at the compliment.

"Even if you are as attracted to breaking the rules as your boyfriend," she added.

Harry laughed. "Speaking of that, there's one of me and Ron listening to the teachers talk about Ginny being taken into the Chamber while hiding in the staff room." McGonagall looked surprised by this admission, but said nothing. "The last two, the ones you need to watch, are of me and Ron going into the Chamber with Lockhart to rescue Ginny and when Lucius Malfoy came to the school afterwards in a last attempt to make sure Ginny was blamed for what happened. I confronted him about giving her the diary. Dumbledore never turned him in for it."

"Why not?" McGonagall asked. "I don't recommend using memory extraction on a child, but you did have the proof that he'd given her the diary. Why didn't the Minister have you testify against him? He committed a criminal act that put the entire school in danger. Why didn't Dumbledore do anything? Why didn't the Ministry?"

"I never questioned him about it," Harry said. "I assumed he knew what he was doing." He shrugged. "Maybe it was because no one got any permanent injuries. He just warned Malfoy about sneaking anything else of Riddle's into the school and let it go. That's all I can remember. Maybe when you watch it, you'll pick up on more that was said."

"I hope so," she responded. "I'd hate to think Dumbledore would let someone get away with putting all those people in harm's way."

Harry pushed away his plate, no longer hungry. He couldn't help thinking of the way Dumbledore had ignored him his entire fifth year at Hogwarts, not giving him any information, even holding back that he'd suspected Harry's dreams were real visions from Voldemort until he'd had no choice but to tell him. He wasn't sure the older wizard wouldn't let someone get into danger if it served his purpose. After all, he was letting Harry and Hermione investigate known Death Eaters, even if they did have promised protection from the Ministry.

"Is everyone finished with lunch?" McGonagall asked. Both students nodded and she cleared the table. Afterwards, she rose and brought the Pensieve over, the last two memories in one hand. "Ready?" Hermione nodded, but Harry shook his head.

"I don't want to watch that again," he said. "I remember it very well."

"I…well, I can see why you would not want to relive some of it," McGonagall said. "Do you want to start on your memories from your third year?"

Harry shook his head. "Would it be possible for me to speak with the Minister? I want to know if I can go to the hospital."

McGonagall's eyes widened behind her spectacles, but she said nothing to Harry. She turned to a portrait to the left of the desk. "Everard?" An older man with short black hair smiled at her from his frame. "Would you please inform the Minister that Mr. Potter wishes to speak to him in person whenever he is available?" She pulled out her wand and flicked it quickly towards the fireplace. A minute later, the tall, thin form of the Minister stepped out of the green flames.

"Professor McGonagall, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter." He greeted them all with a nod. "I notice that my portrait has taken on a decidedly stiff air."

McGonagall smiled. "The children wished for privacy when conducting their research and I obliged. It's much easier to speak freely when you know everyone in the room can be fully trusted."

Dumbledore stared at her for a few seconds before deciding to ignore her comment and turn to Harry. "You wished to see me?"

"Would it be possible for me to go the hospital?" Harry asked. "I'd really like to see how bad my injuries are, what the symptoms are." He glanced at Hermione. "It might help us figure out what caused the curse."

"Fresh eyes on an old mystery?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded. He hadn't thought of it that way, but the logic made sense. He'd seen Hermione figure out at least one puzzle that had baffled him. Namely, the clue to the memory she was going to view.

"I see you've been extracting your memories. I could take them all now if you're done."

"These are only the first two years," Harry said, motioning to the desk. "They're going to view the last two from my second year while we're gone. If we're going," Harry added. "Then you can have all of them. Unless you'd rather wait for me to write a report summarizing things for you and any connection with current events."

"No, I believe a report can wait," Dumbledore said. "I am anxious to see some of the things you described the other day. If you'd like to go to the hospital now, I can arrange that. Though, I do not wish you to be seen."

"I have my Invisibility Cloak." Harry walked over to his bag and fished through it until he pulled out the old cloak. "Won't someone find it strange that you're there?"

Dumbledore blinked hard. "No, Harry. I've visited you almost every day since you were admitted. The Healer overseeing your case will be expecting me either today or tomorrow."

Harry nodded. Before he could take a step towards the fireplace, Hermione came over and put her arms around him. "Write everything down," she said. "It's all important."

He nodded and watched as she and Professor McGonagall slipped into the Pensieve before he and the Minister left for his office, and then St. Mungo's.

When he walked into the room, Harry hadn't known what to expect. What he saw shocked him. It was himself, yes, but very different from the person he looked at in the mirror every morning. While his skin was normally fair, now it was unnaturally pale, near ghostly against the pristine hospital sheets. Looking around, he felt it was safe to slip off the Invisibility Cloak and take a closer look. The boy in the bed was thin, but that didn't strike him as remarkably different as the Dursleys had made a point of starving him every summer. He'd never seemed able to retain weight any other time of the year, either. His breathing was erratic and wheezy; Harry knew he was struggling to push each one in and out of his body. As he stood next to the bed, he felt a deep sense of unease radiating from the body before him. It was almost as if they shared the pain of this curse. In a way they did.

"You have been heavily sedated," Dumbledore said. "With the nature of this curse, it is not something they can do too often, but it is the only way you can sleep given the amount of pain you are in. Unless you fall unconscious."

Harry nodded and said nothing. There didn't seem to be anything he could say. He was looking down at himself, at the person his mother had raised who would be dead in weeks if they couldn't find a cure. He turned to find Dumbledore holding out a folder to him.

"Your medical charts."

Harry took the folder and copied each page the way Hermione had shown him, trying not to gag as he glanced over the detailed notes describing the growing list of physical ailments they had measured. He didn't care what Professor McGonagall had said, he would kill Snape before it was all over. If his father had gone through even half this agony for a year or more before his death, what Harry could do to him wasn't a fraction of what he deserved. He closed the folder and handed it back to Dumbledore, pocketing the copied pages.

"I'm ready," Harry said. The Minister took one last look at the pale boy in the bed before motioning for Harry to put his cloak back on and walking him outside.


	32. Unusual Tales

The moment she got her bearings after stepping out of Pensieve, Hermione ran over to Harry and put her arms around him. She was trembling as she sank onto his lap in the chair and he held her close, looking over her shoulder to Professor McGonagall who seemed just as shaken as the girl in his arms.

The Headmistress took a seat on the other side of the table silently. She stared at her hands for a few minutes, playing with her fingernails, fidgeting, trying to distract herself as thoughts of what she had just witnessed played through her mind again. She settled for siphoning both memories out of the Pensieve and putting them back into their labeled vials.

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you," Hermione whispered in his ear. She pulled back a little and looked into Harry's eyes. "I don't know how you made it through all that. You both nearly died."

"Fawkes saved me and Ginny that day. I'm just glad I got there in time to destroy the diary," Harry said.

"If events got progressively worse over the years, I'm not sure I wish to see anymore," McGonagall said. "I wonder if that house-elf could give us information about whatever Lucius is up to now."

"I doubt it," Harry said. "Dobby had to hurt himself every time he tried to warn me that year. There's only a slim chance he could tell us anything now."

"Yes, they are tremendously loyal creatures," McGonagall said.

"What about Draco?" Hermione asked. She stood and moved to sit in her own chair. "Dobby is bound to do anything Draco asks of him because he's a member of the family."

"We don't know if we can trust him," Harry reminded her. "I have no idea if he ran to his aunt the other day or not. Plus, Dobby could still tell his father whatever Draco asks him about."

"Unless he orders him not to. It's worth keeping in mind, Miss Granger." McGonagall sighed. "How was the hospital visit?"

Harry shook his head, avoiding Hermione's eyes as he answered. "It's worse than I thought. I knew it was bad, but…" Harry shook his head again. "I copied the medical file." He put a hand on top of Hermione's when she reached for the folder. His eyes locked with hers. "You might not want to read that. At least give yourself some time to recover from what you've just seen."

She seemed startled by his statement. "All right. I guess we can work on trying to figure out the curse tomorrow. Do you want to go through memories from third year?"

Harry nodded. "These are a lot more tame than the first two. You really only need to see the one where Professor Lupin and Sirius Black discovered that Peter Pettigrew had faked his death and was living—hey! Ron doesn't have a pet rat, does he?" Harry looked around in alarm. He had completely forgotten about checking his own dorm room for the smelly, balding animal his parents used to call friend.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think he's ever had a pet at school."

"Why?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"He—Pettigrew—is an unregistered Animagus. After he faked his death and framed Sirius for leading Voldemort to my parents, he was living as a rat and Ron's family kept him as a pet. You'll get to see Sirius and Lupin blow his cover." Harry smiled. "You'll also get to see us disarm Snape, knocking him out. Too bad we can't do that again. If you really want to see something interesting, you can watch my memory of Professor Lupin turning into a werewolf or when I fought off all the Dementors by the lake. I had to break these up into separate memories because they're so long."

"You've led a more interesting life than wizards several times your age, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a faint smile. "I don't know many students your age who could fight off even one Dementor. How many were there?"

He shrugged. "I think there were over a hundred, but I don't remember exactly. They were surrounding the school the entire year."

Hermione stared at him openmouthed.

Harry resisted the sudden urge to smile. He knew he wasn't bragging, but it felt like it every time he went over details of his past this way. "Why are you looking at me like that? I told you all of this last week, remember? This is when you and I used the Time-Turner together." He pointed at a bottle on the table. "After what's happened, I wonder if Dumbledore would regret giving us permission to do that. I never would've considered changing my past before then."

Hermione touched his wrist softly. "Harry, don't think that way. What's done is done."

He nodded. He knew that better than anyone. He picked up one of the vials. "You two ready?"

"You're not coming with us again?" Hermione asked. "I didn't think this one was all that traumatic."

"It's not," Harry said. "I found out more about how my parents died." He looked across the table as Professor McGonagall coughed. "I should've shown you the memory of when I left the letter for them first. After you hear Sirius and Pettigrew describe what happened, maybe you'll understand better why I did it." He lowered his eyes to the bottle in his hand. "I just don't feel like hearing the story again. It's enough that my mum is here now." He opened the bottle and poured the memory into the Pensieve.

"What will you be doing while we watch this?" Hermione stood next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going through this book," he said, motioning to the beat-up text he'd borrowed a few days previous. "Now that I have an idea what symptoms to look for, maybe I can tell if one of these potions was used. Though after what I saw and read…" He looked at the folder of his medical records and then back up at Hermione. "I'm not sure how much of it will be helpful. We'll see."

Hermione bent and kissed him on the cheek. "Have faith, Harry. I do."

He nodded but did not respond. He stared at the cover of the book in front of him silently until he was alone in the room and then he opened it, searching for a cure that was looking more and more improbable by the day.

* * *

"Ignore it," Hermione said. "We know what's really going on. That's more important than what everyone else thinks."

"I know," Harry responded. He sighed. It was easy for her to say that. She tightened her arms around him briefly before kissing him on the cheek and releasing him. "Good night, Hermione."

"Good night," she said before turning and walking up the stairs to the girls' dorm.

Finally able to escape the staring from students in the common room, Harry took the stairs two at a time to his own dorm, stopping in the doorway when he noticed Dean and Ron standing near his bed, staring at the floor next to it.

"Something up?" Both boys turned at Harry's voice. Between them, he saw what had held them so captivated. The cabinet next to his bed had been opened and turned over; his clothes were scattered everywhere. The few contents of his trunk, mostly a few books from previous school years and extra quills and parchment, were scattered all over the floor.

"We just came up here," Ron said. "No idea who did it."

"It's okay," Harry said. He had a very good idea. His stepfather had decided to reclaim his stolen property once he'd realized Harry wouldn't be around. Snape hadn't even bothered to hide what he was doing. Harry was relieved Professor McGonagall had let them leave everything of importance in her office. He pulled out his wand and cleaned up the mess, glad the ink bottle that had been dropped hadn't broken and spilled all over his things.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked. "I mean, after what happened yesterday…and this morning."

When he looked over to Dean, he noticed that Seamus and Neville had joined his other two roommates at the foot of his bed, all of them eager for answers. "I'm fine," Harry said, though it was nowhere near the truth. The agreed upon story would suffice for his roommates. "Hermione is upset that we're in trouble, but it's not going to affect her marks, so she'll get over it. Professor McGonagall basically told me if I don't stay away from Snape, or at least stop fighting with him, she'll punish me more. Other than that, I'm fine."

"You don't still feel sick?" Neville asked.

Harry paused. Was Neville more affected than he'd let on earlier? "No. Do you?"

"No, I…" He looked around at the other boys. "Would it be okay if we talked alone, Harry? I have some things to ask you."

"That's fine," Harry responded. He nodded at the other boys and they all went to their beds, watching the quiet pair as they sat side by side on Harry's bed. "What do you want to know?"

"You know more than you were saying this morning," Neville began. "Don't bother denying it. Hermione never gets defensive like that unless she has something to hide. Tell me what you know about what happened."

This was one of the things Harry had been afraid of, having to lie when asked a direct question by someone who needed to know a good portion of the truth. "I can't tell you everything," Harry whispered. Professor McGonagall would probably kill him for the little he was going to say. "You can't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you. The woman from the Ministry is an Auror."

"So that's why she was sent to inspect the room?"

Harry nodded. "She spent half the afternoon searching the room and she didn't find anything. She's been searching the school for things the Ministry has been missing for weeks."

"From the break-ins over the summer?"

"It may go back further than that, but yes," Harry said.

Neville shook his head, his confusion evident. "But what does have that to do with what happened to us? Professor McGonagall isolating you and Hermione? The voice?"

"The voice?"

Neville's eyes widened. "You didn't hear it? Lavender thinks I must've been in shock, but I could swear I heard a voice just before I passed out. It said something about…" His eyes rolled to one side as he thought. "Destroying the unworthy and forgiveness and…never mind. You have no idea what I'm talking about."

"No, I do." Harry put a hand on Neville's arm before he could get up to leave. "I heard it too." He looked down. "Parvati was right. It has something to do with our scars."

Neville lifted a hand to the side of his face. "You're not just saying this to scare me? The last time I passed out like this, the Minister told Gran he thought it might have something to do with my scar."

"I thought nothing had ever happened with your scar before," Harry said. "The Minister visited your house?"

"Nothing major has happened, but it's hurt a few times before. I passed out ages ago, when I was eight. Gran didn't think it was a big deal. I was just starting to show major signs of having magic ability and she thought the headaches and dreams and things were because of that."

"What?" Harry waved at Ron absently when he looked over to them. "You've been having dreams and headaches and you passed out?"

"I don't think it's all related to my scar, but yeah." Neville looked down and began picking at a loose thread on Harry's blanket. "My uncle got worried one day when he was babysitting and he took me to St. Mungo's when Gran wasn't around. The Minister heard about it and came by for a visit. Can you imagine?" Neville looked up and Harry saw the embarrassment in his eyes. "I had a few nightmares and they act like it's the end of the world. When I passed out a few weeks later, Dumbledore came by the house and told Gran if my scar bothered me again to contact him. She said it wouldn't. And it hasn't. Until yesterday."

Harry wanted to scream. Did this mean Voldemort had almost come back years ago? He hadn't felt anything from his own scar until he'd come to Hogwarts and Voldemort was near him, gathering strength. How long had Snape's plan been going on?

"How did you get your scar, Harry?"

He looked up at the other boy and shook his head. "I promised Professor McGonagall I wouldn't discuss it."

"But Hermione knows."

"Hermione is in danger because of it." Harry looked around their room and lowered his voice even more. "Look, what happened with me over the summer—Professor McGonagall wants me and Hermione with her during the day because we're researching my attackers. She's also protecting both of us."

"How?" Neville asked. "I don't see how this relates to what happened yesterday."

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you." Harry shook his head and looked away from Neville again. "I don't know exactly what happened yesterday, but as far as I know, you're not in any danger. If you were, Professor McGonagall would protect you too." Harry scratched at his head absently. "As far as our scars go, you might be on to something about something nearby affecting both of us. But after all of the attention yesterday, I doubt whoever caused it is going to do whatever they did again."

"That doesn't tell me anything, Harry. You know who's doing this, don't you? Why don't you just tell me the truth?"

Harry shook his head again, still avoiding Neville's eyes. "I can't tell you any more than I already have. Just don't worry about it. And don't tell anyone what I've told you." He looked at the other boy's face again. The guilt that hit him felt like a punch in the gut. "If you absolutely need more answers, come by Professor McGonagall's office during lunch tomorrow and she'll decide if there's more we can tell you. But I swear, none of this is about you," Harry added.

Neville didn't respond. He shook his head and walked over to his own bed, sitting on it and closing the dark curtains around himself. He didn't move for the rest of the night.


	33. Magick Theory

Neville avoided looking at Harry as he sat at the table in the Great Hall the next morning. He was one of the few people who didn't stare and whisper when Harry came in. Harry nodded briefly at Ron, Parvati and Lavender and then looked around, wondering where Hermione was. She was normally up at least an hour before he was; she regularly made it to breakfast before most of their House. His answer came a minute later as Professor McGonagall approached the table.

"I'll need you in my office early, Mr. Potter."

Harry turned to her, surprised. "It's too early in the morning for me to be in trouble again," he said. "I swear, I just sat down."

"No, you are not in trouble _again_, at least not yet. Miss Granger is in my office and she needs you right now," McGonagall said. "You may have breakfast upstairs. Talk her into eating something while you're at it."

"Is she all right?" he asked, following the Headmistress out into the hall.

"That remains to be seen. She decided to get up early and read through the medical records by herself." McGonagall cleared her throat. "It may have been wise to ask her not to look at them yesterday. I think the information is too much for her."

Harry said nothing until they entered the Headmistress's office. Following his first instinct, he went to where Hermione had her head down on the table; her shoulders were shaking with sobs. He whispered her name and then she turned to him, grasping him tightly around his middle and crying until her tears had dissolved into little hiccupping sighs. Harry sat down and Hermione moved to sit on his lap, curling up there while he rubbed her back.

He knew exactly how she'd felt reading the Healer's findings, he'd felt it ten times worse the day before. To know every potion cure they'd tried so far had only multiplied the intensity of the symptoms and the rate at which the curse spread, it was a wonder he hadn't died already with the number of cures they'd attempted before they discovered that fact. Couple that with the knowledge that they'd had more than a year to cure his father and he knew Hermione was finally acknowledging the very real possibility of his death. To see the words on paper that way made it harder to push for that faith she had been clinging to for days.

"I'm not giving up," she said in a small voice. "Don't think that."

"I don't," Harry said. He looked around. Professor McGonagall had left them alone.

"I just—I didn't think it would be quite so hard. Even if we do find something that will help, even attempting could make it worse."

"Don't think about it that way, Hermione." He looked into her eyes and rubbed away the tear that had formed at the corner of one eye with his thumb. "You saw all the stuff you did in my memories. You figured out where to find Dumbledore's notes, how to read the Key, you even figured out how to get me to come around." He smiled encouragingly. "If you can do all that, I have no doubt you can find a cure."

"I'm not perfect," she whispered. "What if I can't do it?"

"It's enough that you're trying. When all of this overwhelms me, you help me remember why I want to live."

He kissed her then, soothing away all the tears she'd been struggling to hold back as he spoke. Then he went back to holding her in his arms, surprised to see Professor McGonagall sitting at her desk, watching the two of them. Lightning quick, she swiped once at her own eyes beneath her spectacles before retrieving the Pensieve from behind her desk and placing it on the table.

"I sent all of the memories from your third year to the Minister with Auror Tonks early this morning." She smiled faintly. "The Minister sent back a note with his congratulations that you survived your first year with your sanity intact, among other things."

"He watched the ones from first year yesterday?" Harry asked. "That must've taken half the night."

"He was quite curious," McGonagall responded. "He made that clear to you. Where do you wish to begin this morning?"

"You can look at the memory of me leaving the letter for my parents when I had the Time-Turner," Harry said, reaching for his wand. "It's not that long. I'll get the memory of that whole day bottled for the Minister and we can send that next." He held his wand to his temple and closed his eyes, pulling the memory out with ease. He placed it in the basin.

"What makes you think I need to see this particular memory, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged. It was difficult with Hermione still on his lap, clinging to his chest. "After hearing the way Snape spoke to me in the Shrieking Shack third year and knowing what you know about what his relationship was like with my dad in school, I think this will be the one thing to convince you to trust me completely. I didn't mean for anyone to be hurt by what I did."

"I don't believe you had any ill intent, Mr. Potter. That was never the question."

Harry looked up at the stern face of his Headmistress. "I also never intended for him to take advantage and go after my mother. I've cut the memory so you can also see my parents the way I did, a few hours before I left the letter. Then you'll understand why I did it. You'll understand why I want to kill him—for taking that away from her."

"That does not mean I will suddenly approve of murder for revenge," McGonagall responded. "Particularly at the hands of a child."

"I don't think you will, but you will see why I want to, and that's enough," Harry said. "I don't expect you to agree, just understand."

Professor McGonagall nodded and conjured two plates on one end of the table. Seconds later, they filled with a variety of breakfast foods. "Attempt to get something down before delving into the medical file again. You will not be able to leave my office," she said.

Harry nodded. "I'll have the fourth year memories when you're done."

With one last nod, she went into the Pensieve and Harry began the painstaking task of trying to talk Hermione into forcing down a small portion of her breakfast.

When the Headmistress appeared again, she sat down across from the two students silently, briefly acknowledging Harry with a small nod when he looked at her. _Maybe that will help her ease up a bit_, Harry thought before going back to the Potions book in his lap.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter, what do you think the Minister will say when he sees that particular memory?"

At her question, he looked up again in surprise. He hadn't thought about it himself, actually. "I suppose it will just be a confirmation," Harry said. "I told him about what I did days ago and he said he believed I was telling the truth. It is the only logical explanation for what's happened."

"Yes," McGonagall started. "Believing you is very different from having proof that someone he trusted has been lying for years. You do realize once he views this, he may not wait on you to find further proof of misdeeds. He may not suspect him of still being a Death Eater, but at the very least, he will want to question Professor Snape about taking credit for this letter."

"Why hasn't he done that already?" Hermione asked. "It's not as if he hasn't known for days."

"The Minister may have felt, as I did, that Professor Snape took credit to gain Lily's favor rather than let it be thought an unknown person was involved. He was spying for our side for a long time before that night," she said. "He was the one who told the Minister you or Mr. Longbottom could be in danger months before. None of us ever questioned that he had provided the information to save your lives."

"Now you think he'll question his truthfulness in general," Harry said.

"It's possible, yes. He may wonder about Professor Snape's motives where your mother was concerned, especially in light of James's subsequent illness. It would not take much for him to make a connection between the two if he decides to investigate further. When do you intend to share this memory with him?" she asked.

"After he sees the memories from my fifth year. Once he views the last one in the Ministry, he'll understand how I got the Time-Turner and how I got the opportunity to use it to change that night." Harry paused. "And why I did it," he added.

"You should wait a few days," McGonagall suggested. "Give him a few days to go through your other memories before turning over that one. I have a feeling it would be best to offer all evidence against your stepfather at one time. I do not believe he will hesitate to take action once he believes Professor Snape came after your father, never mind what he is up to now."

"She's right, Harry," Hermione said. "He was agitated the other night when you wouldn't tell him who you suspected. He'll go after him immediately."

"What would be so bad about that?" Harry asked. "We don't need Snape to find a cure. Dumbledore could probably force it out of him if he wanted to."

"He may be able to do so," McGonagall said. "But he may just kill him for what he's done. The Minister, unlike yourself, might be able to get away with that. For the sake of whatever he may be planning, it is better we providing damning evidence against Professor Snape and his co-conspirators before turning him in. After that, frankly I don't wish to know what will happen to him."

Harry was surprised by this statement, but said nothing. Maybe she wouldn't stand in his way when it came time to kill his stepfather. Regardless of what Dumbledore might or might not do, he still wanted to take care of the problem himself. For his father's memory, if for no other reason.

After a few moments of silence, Hermione closed the Potion book she had been reading through. "Professor, you said we could have access to any book in the library?" she asked.

"Yes," McGonagall responded. "What do you wish to look for? I can have relevant texts sent up."

Hermione began chewing at her bottom lip nervously, avoiding the Headmistress's eyes as she answered. "The only reason I was able to find out how the Key was being concealed was to use an Unforgivable Curse on it."

"You wish to do something similar with this mysterious curse?"

"Yes. Sort of. I think we should look at the kinds of spells…well, that normal witches and wizards wouldn't think to use. Even the three basic Unforgivables don't compare to what this curse can do," she said, gesturing to the medical file in front of her. "Maybe there's a clue in one of the books in the Restricted Section. It's obviously some type of Dark Magic. It's something we couldn't expect a Healer at St. Mungo's to know anything about." She looked at Professor McGonagall uncertainly.

"I believe you're right about that last." She shook her head slowly. "If I didn't know you are the type of student who can be trusted…I could lose my job for showing you the type of book you're requesting." McGonagall stood from behind the table. "I think I know what book may be of assistance. I'd better get it myself. Madam Pince would be shocked if I told her this was for a student. Particularly you, Miss Granger. I'll be right back."

The moment she'd left the office, Harry turned to Hermione. "Do you seriously think something like that will help? I was starting to think it might be some type of potion. Snape _is_ an expert at those."

"The Healer's notes indicate they think it might be a combination of the two." She shrugged. "I'm not sure that's wrong. The symptoms are all over the place." Hermione looked down at the sheet in front of her. "Chronic pain, nightmares, fever, even…the organs seem to be wasting away. All of it could be caused by a potion, in theory, but a normal potion would've worked it's way through the body's systems by now."

"Unless it's some type of slow-acting poison," Harry said.

"Yes and no." She took a deep breath and closed the folder. "A poison would attack the body until the person dies or until a cure is administered. This one actually reacts to any attempts to administer a cure, as if it's been programmed to respond to magic healing. There's no known poison that responds to attempts to counteract it by fighting back."

"It has to be a curse," Harry said. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I knew you could figure something like this out. You'd make a great Auror."

She laughed softly. "I'd be scared half to death of actually having to fight someone. I think this is the closest I ever want to get to fighting Dark Magic."

"They have research jobs too," Harry said. "If you took a job at the Ministry, you'd probably be running a department in a few years."

"Assuming my reputation as a troublemaker doesn't follow me," she said with a small smile. Hermione raised a hand to Harry's cheek and stroked his skin with the tips of her fingers. "I'm sorry I hit you yesterday. I just got so upset that you would fight with him that way."

Harry held Hermione's hand to his cheek and closed his eyes briefly. "I know why you were upset. I just…I couldn't help the way I reacted. He's hated me since my first day at Hogwarts. It was hard to find out he's not only doing everything he can to hurt me, he's trying to make my mother mistrust me. You heard her the other day. She thinks the only reason he and I don't get along is because I don't try hard enough. When all of this is over, who do you think she'll blame? It'll be impossible to get her to listen to me long enough to explain."

"Your reaction was understandable, but you have to control your temper."

"It's easier when I have you to help me calm down," Harry said. "Though there are better ways than slapping me."

She smiled and leaned closer. "Really? How is that?"

He pressed his lips to hers and fought a smile as she kissed him back, sighing as she drew closer. Hermione moved into his lap and moved her fingers through his hair in a way he was beginning to like, to the point where he was wondering if she should stop doing that when they could be interrupted at any moment.

He hadn't realized how easy it would be to respond to her once he'd opened himself up to the idea of a relationship with his best friend, but he should've known her instincts were spot-on about the two of them, as they were about almost everything else. He had gotten used to the idea of—well, gotten used to the two of them being together far faster than he ever would've believed and every moment together since had just felt right. Being her friend had actually made the transition to being her boyfriend easier than if she'd just proposed a relationship out of the blue. He had _never_ felt this at ease with Cho and he'd had a crush on her for a long while before she'd shown any interest.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat from the doorway and Hermione jumped up, blushing as she took her own seat again. "I haven't completely ruled out the idea of chastity belts," she said, putting a large dusty book on the table.

"A what?" Harry asked as Hermione coughed.

"You won't need to make me wear that, Professor. Nothing has happened. Or will," Hermione added.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something?"

Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Didn't Miss Granger tell you what happened with the two of you last term?"

Harry shot a quick glance at her before looking back at the Headmistress. "Just that you walked in on us kissing in my dorm when we were supposed to be in class and…you got worried."

She raised both brows at his statement. "Yes, that is a polite way of referring to what I wish I hadn't seen. I'd hate to think the two of you are falling into old habits. In my office, of all places. I would be forced to take drastic action," she said, directing her gaze to take in Hermione.

"I…no. Hermione was just telling me her theory about the curse."

"And you were congratulating her on her brilliance?" The Headmistress asked in a dry voice.

Hermione cleared her throat. When McGonagall turned to her, she hurriedly repeated her theory, going further to say that they might be able to find a counter curse in a book if it wasn't something invented by Snape himself.

"That is a clever theory," McGonagall said, "But, please limit your congratulations to hugs or something equally platonic when in my office."

Harry nodded and pulled the book she'd brought from the library closer. "_Magick Most Evile_. That sounds like a load of fun to read. This will be the best one to help us?"

She nodded. "It is the most…thorough text on the subject available at Hogwarts. If the information you're looking for is not in there, you're not likely to find it anyplace outside of Knockturn Alley or the Auror Office." She placed her wand on the book's spine and said, "_Somnus_," before opening the front cover. "You have to put it to sleep or it will wail the entire time you're reading," McGonagall said.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, pulling the text over.

"I have to caution you. There are very disturbing things contained in that text. If it takes a great deal of time to find what you are looking for, be careful to take breaks from reading it." She turned to Harry. "How many events do you wish to review from your fourth year?"

"I'm not sure." He looked over to where Hermione was beginning to look through the _Magick_ book. "The two of most interest would be…after the third task in the TriWizard tournament when Cedric Diggory was killed." The Headmistress's eyes widened. "That was when Voldemort, with Pettigrew's help, used my blood and a few other things to get a create body for himself." He paused and noticed Hermione was now watching him. "I guess we don't need to watch that one unless they get far enough in their plan to bring him back now. As long as we have the Key, I don't think that can happen," Harry said.

"The truth is, I don't want to go through that one again. I had nightmares about that night for weeks. Sometimes I still do," he said quietly. "The other important memory is from right after I brought back Cedric's body, when we found out Barty Crouch, Jr. had been impersonating Professor Moody all year."

"The former Auror?"

Harry nodded. "His job was to get me to win the Tournament because Voldemort couldn't get to me here. The school was too well-protected. He had to find a way to get me to a Portkey. It took me and Cedric to the cemetery where Voldemort's Muggle relatives are buried. The whole night was pretty gruesome." He closed his eyes and was immediately confronted with a vision of Cedric falling dead to the ground, his eyes open and unseeing. "Crouch tried to kill me in his office that night." Harry shook his head. "I don't really want to watch any of it. You can, though," he said to Professor McGonagall. He indicated the last two vials in the long row on the table.

"I must admit, I don't wish to see any of what you just described unless I have no choice. Pray it doesn't come to that," McGonagall said.

"It does bring me to one thing," Harry began. He took a deep breath and told the Headmistress about his conversation with Neville the night before. "I know I shouldn't have said anything, but he was so worried. On some level, he might know Voldemort could come after him. If nothing else, we should find out if he had any nightmares recently and what they were about. They could be real visions."

"Have you had nightmares recently?" Hermione asked.

"A few," Harry said, "But only because I told you everything last week. That brought up a lot. I haven't thought about some of this stuff in years. I haven't had any nightmares that are different from the old ones."

"I am still of the opinion that Mr. Longbottom will not be involved unless he has to be." McGonagall said. "If he comes to me, I will reassure him that he is in no danger, but I don't wish to involve him in this." She gestured to indicate the notes and books on the table, along with the Pensieve.

Harry nodded. "I'll go along with that. He's just really upset with me now."

"Live with it, Mr. Potter." McGonagall stood from the table. "I am going to see about lunch. Be careful with that book, Miss Granger," she said before walking out of the room.


	34. Prime Conditions

"Harry, what's wrong?" McGonagall looked up as Hermione's voice rose. "You're rubbing your scar. Is it bothering you? What's wrong?" She put a hand over one of his and looked into his eyes, searching for, he knew, a sign that something was different.

"Nothing," Harry said. He dropped his hand from his face and pulled away from her, keeping his eyes on the book on the table in front of him. "It's just tingling a little bit. It's nothing to worry about."

"Of course it's something to worry about." She turned his face towards her again and put a hand to his forehead. "What do you feel? Do you see or hear anything strange?"

He stared at Hermione without blinking for a few seconds. "I'm touched that you're so concerned, but I never would've shown you all those memories if I knew you'd become just as overprotective as you were before."

She flinched and pulled her hand back. "What?"

"You fuss over me all the time, Hermione."

"There's a problem with me not wanting you to die at the hands of a dark wizard?"

Harry sighed. _Does she mean Snape or Voldemort?_ "No, but if I tell you it's nothing, I mean exactly that. It used to tingle off and on all the time and nothing happened. This is no different. I'll know if it's something significant."

Hermione frowned and went back to her reading. He knew she didn't believe a word of it, but she wasn't going to argue with him about it. That, at least, was a change for the better from the Hermione he'd known before.

Harry turned the page in his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ and squinted as he read the description of a potion on the next page. Whoever had owned his book had scribbled all over this page too, even going so far as to scratch out a third of the directions and rewrite the steps in the margins.

"Will retain…can either of you read this?" Harry asked. Hermione leaned over and squinted at where he indicated.

"Will…retain spell properties if fluxweed is not…used in the third step," Hermione said.

"What potion are you looking at, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Everlasting Elixir. Well, whoever had this book wrote so much over it, it's probably something entirely different," he said. "It looks like they were trying to get the finished potion to transfigure with a spell."

"That's impossible," Hermione said. "You could transform a normal liquid into something else temporarily, but a potion will stay as it's brewed. Otherwise you'd lose the purpose of the potion entirely."

"Not entirely true, Miss Granger," the Headmistress stated. "Transitive Potion Magic is rare, but not impossible. While it is true that most transfigurations would not work on a potion with specific properties, if it were…primed, shall we say, the right potion could retain a different type of magic than that with which it was brewed. It would, in effect, carry a spell that could not normally be transferred to a person in liquid form. It would have to be a special type of potion in order to receive a transitive spell, but it could be done."

Harry pulled the book back in front of himself and scanned over the page and small, hand-written notes again. "Wait, so it would be possible to add spells to an existing potion?"

"Like a curse?" Hermione asked. Her eyes widened as she caught on to what Harry was saying. She leaned over to look at the page again. "It could be given in doses!"

"Would that make it impossible to remove? Once a large enough amount was built up?"

"Or even impossible to trace if it was transfigured that way?" Hermione squealed and snatched the book from Harry's hands, slamming it on top of her own reading. She scanned the page and then read the potion recipe out loud, smiling as Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. "Is it possible this is the kind of potion that could be given to someone to produce Harry's condition? If it carried the right curse?"

"Let me see that book," McGonagall said. As her eyes scanned the page, she blinked rapidly several times in surprise. She flipped to the front of the book and frowned as she looked at the inside front cover. "Prince."

"Prince?" Harry asked.

"The Half-Blood Prince. A rather cryptic name inside the front cover," McGonagall responded

"Any idea who wrote all over the book?" he asked.

"Someone who found it important to make corrections to what he obviously saw as mistakes in his Potions book," she said, flipping through a few of the pages. "If Professor Snape used an elixir similar to what is in the description of this potion, he may be more cunning, and more dangerous, than any of us realize. Something resembling Everlasting Elixir this closely would stay in the body's system for a great deal of time. If it carried a curse with it, it may prove difficult to remove. Assuming this formula works."

"So it is possible?" Hermione asked. She flipped through _Magick Most Evile_ and pointed at a spell on the page. "This spell produces about half of the symptoms Harry has and is pretty difficult to remove."

Harry leaned to examine the page. "What spell is it?"

"It's called the Senium Curse," Hermione said. "According to the description, it's supposed to cause a slow decay of the organs, and unless someone suspects it, appears to result in natural death. It's sort of like speeding up the natural aging process for all of the body's internal functions."

"Is there a cure for it on the page?"

"I'm afraid not, Harry, sorry." Hermione slammed the book closed. "At least, nothing that I think will help you. The thing is, it's not supposed to be incurable unless the person doesn't know they have it. If they have it long enough, then it becomes fatal. Otherwise, only a very strong and complicated healing potion can cure it. Your curse is different because we can't do anything to treat the symptoms. And we don't really know how long you've had it. If Professor Snape really did use some type of potion, it's possible he's been giving you doses for a while."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't someone have noticed if he was dosing me with some kind of poison?"

"Not if he disguised it as something else," Professor McGonagall said. "If he used something similar to this elixir," she said, pointing at Harry's copy of Advanced Potion Making, "once it was ready to hold a spell, it could've easily been transfigured to look like something else."

"Like pumpkin juice?"

"Or even something as harmless as water," McGonagall said. "I'm going to have a look around his office and living area. If there is a substance of a questionable nature, we can extract the ingredients and find out if this is what was used to curse you."

"We should check the house too, just in case," Hermione added.

"Can we get a cure from that?" Harry asked. "If we use the basic potion?"

"I don't want to give you false hope," the Headmistress said. "If we try this, the best we can hope for is to create a potion that may counter the effects of the original. We may even be able to stop it from spreading further. Because it is resistant to cure, I don't know what will happen unless we can produce the exact counter curse. All we will be doing is keeping the illness from progressing."

"But that's something, at least," Hermione said. There was a false note of cheer in her voice as she lay one hand over Harry's on the table. "If we can stop it from getting worse, there's only a few steps from knowing how to cure it if—" She stopped speaking abruptly.

"If what?" he asked. He could guess what she was thinking, but he wanted someone else to say it out loud.

"If…if it hasn't spread too much already." At Harry's frown, she hurriedly added, "But even if you're close to—if it looks bad, if we can reverse the effects that make it resistant to cure, any potion that fixes the symptoms should work then. I mean, simple fever reducers and healing potions that can be strengthened with the same potion that administered the curse."

It all depended on a lot of what ifs and possibilities, but Harry knew what they'd just discovered was the only key they had to the cure so far. It wasn't much, but he would take it over a certain death.

Harry read over the potion in the textbook slowly, going over the instructions and assessing the difficulty. "Can we test this, Professor? I don't mean give it to someone," he added at her frown. "Just see if it will actually hold a spell and if it is truly undetectable. It only takes a few hours to make."

"I suppose we can try it. We'll have to if we want to attempt a cure before long anyway," she said.

"If this is made properly, could it hold something else? Like a shield spell or some other type of protection?" Harry asked.

"That's genius," Hermione said. "If he tried to give it to you again here at school, you'd be able to counteract it with the same type of potion."

"That's what I was thinking," Harry said. "He seemed so surprised to see me the first day of class, I don't think he was the one to actually put the curse on me." He glanced back down at the book. "What if he'd just been giving me doses over time and then someone else activated the curse? That makes sense, right? He was here at Hogwarts and if this potion was already in my system, all it would take is the right spell when I couldn't defend myself. That would explain why he questioned me."

"So when I walked in on the two of you in his office last week—?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded. "He was trying to get me to tell him how I'd gotten away from King's Cross. He had assumed my scar was the only damage. He couldn't have been there or he would've known the condition I was in the day before."

"It must've been Draco's dad," Hermione said. "He's the only one who wasn't here at school with an alibi. Plus, he would've had an excuse to be at King's Cross while he was dropping off his son."

"If this potion is harmless without a spell, he could've given it to anyone. My mum, either of you, the whole school."

"No," Professor McGonagall said abruptly. Harry jumped, surprised at the conviction in her voice as she disputed him. "He can't have poisoned the entire staff and students at Hogwarts. Even if he could get into the kitchens, the house-elves would not allow it."

"What if they didn't know?" Hermione asked. "The Healers at St. Mungo's didn't find anything in Harry's system, so it's probably untraceable. Professor Snape could be setting us all up for slaughter and we wouldn't have any idea."

"They would know," the Headmistress assured her. "They take precautions against any humans coming into the kitchens and no one is allowed to tamper with the food. They would be liable if anyone took sick from something they cooked. It would not happen."

"If you're sure," Harry said. "That doesn't mean he couldn't have put it in the food at my house." He turned to Hermione. "Do you think that's why he was upset about all of us moving out over the summer?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, if this was already in your system, he probably didn't need the opportunity to give you more. He was just upset that you were trying to get your mum to leave him and she might have been starting to listen to you."

"And that I was going through his things, I'll bet," Harry said.

"This speculation is getting us nowhere," McGonagall said. "I want to see if we can make this potion before the day is out. Would you mind handing me that map of yours?"

Hermione jumped up and retrieved the Marauder's Map, activating it before she placed it on the table in front of the Headmistress.

"You said Fred and George Weasley have one as well?" she asked.

Harry laughed. "They'd kill me if they knew I'd told you that. But there's a solid chance they got it from Filch their first year."

"Hmm. Well, if they didn't get it from his office, I will. This will be useful," she commented. She looked at several of the floors before coming to the dungeons. "Interesting."

"What?" Hermione leaned over to get a closer look at the Map.

"Professor Snape is having a meeting with Professor Lestrange. She's pacing." McGonagall looked up at the two students across from her. "I wonder what she's worried about."

"Getting away with murder, among other things. It's almost funny. Hurting people didn't bother her before," Harry said. "She actually enjoys torturing people."

"That explains her tests," Hermione said. She looked at the Map again. "Would it be possible to listen in while they're having one of their meetings?"

"No," Professor McGonagall said. "But I will need to use this when I go downstairs. I don't want either of them seeing me get ingredients for this potion or searching either of their offices."

"You can just tell Professor Lestrange you're getting supplies for our assignments for her. We have a couple to turn in this week," Hermione said. "I could go with you. She might not believe you're down there getting supplies for us instead of making us do it ourselves." She scanned the book page quickly. "Everything we need should be in the class storage room. It's scary how easy this is to make."

"Easy to brew, yes, but not easy to use the way we suspect," McGonagall said. "Making the potion is only the first step."

"For all our sakes, I hope it's the first one in the right direction." Harry said.

* * *

Bellatrix jumped when the door to her office opened with a sudden loud click. She relaxed a fraction when she turned and saw that it was just Snape, his face mirroring her own irritation for once.

"What took you so long?" she asked as he closed the door behind himself. "Lunch is almost over."

"I had to discipline a few unruly students. With Minerva in her self-imposed exile, the bulk of the real work around here goes to me," Snape said. "I'll be glad when this is over and I can be shut of these brats for good."

Bellatrix began pacing back and forth behind her desk. "If the Key is not with his clothes, not in his trunk, and Lucius didn't find it on him at King's Cross, is it possible it was stolen by someone else? The week before school started?"

Snape drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. "Not likely. I'm sure Potter is our thief. The boy had guilt written all over him the first day of classes. Arrogant little bastard told me himself he wanted to see the Minister." His eyes narrowed as she passed in front of his eyes again. "Will you stop moving around like that?"

She turned and glared at him. "Will you stop playing games? Go after Harry. I don't care what Minerva said yesterday. We have to start making the potion in a week and we have no way of completing it without the Key. We still need to find all of the ingredients." Bellatrix began pacing again, this time circling around the desk and walking in front of the guest chairs. "You don't want to hurt him yet? Fine. It won't even take that long to use Legilimency on him. You could even do it while he's sleeping."

Snape grabbed her arm to stop her movement. "The boy is being locked up all day and I dare say it would arouse suspicions among the students if I snuck into his dorm room at night," he said. "Besides, he's learned to block his thoughts, at least on a basic level. I need to get him out of that office. Saturday is my best chance."

"You want to wait until the weekend? Surely she won't keep her second in charge out of her office that long?" Bella asked.

"She's not even letting the school house-elves clean her office this week. All they're doing is sending up food for the three of them when she signals the kitchen." He sat back in the chair. "You would think Potter and Granger had been up to something serious, the way she's got them locked in there."

"Her office," Bellatrix said.

"Yes, Bella. I know they're in her office. That would be the problem."

"No, Sev. That's the solution. She's got the Key in her office. Potter's probably shown it to her by now. We'll have to find a way to get in to get it."

He shook his head. "If there's one room in the castle that can't be broken into, it's that one. It can refuse anyone she wishes and it will not admit a Headmaster under any type of influence. Besides, if she had it, wouldn't she have turned us both in by now?" Snape frowned. "No. Minerva would not protect anyone if she thought they would hurt a student. She doesn't have it in her."

"Which of us are you trying to convince?"

His dark eyes narrowed on her face. "I don't have to convince either of us of anything. Potter probably has the Key on him if it's nowhere else. I'll have to get him from under Minerva's constant supervision."

Bellatrix leaned against her desk and frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "We could just kill her," she said after a moment.

Snape rolled his eyes. "If you can wait just another two weeks or so, your bloodlust can be slaked without garnering any unnecessary attention."

"What unnecessary attention?" Bellatrix asked. She moved to reach into a drawer in her desk and pulled out an unlabelled bottle of clear liquid. "If Minerva is struck with a sudden illness and cannot perform her duties as Headmistress, you will have to take over. If you don't want me to kill her, I won't," she said, smiling as she turned the bottle over in her hand. "But I can take her out of commission long enough for you to be put in charge and carry out our plan. You will also get the chance to have a nice, long chat with your stepson about putting his nose where it doesn't belong."

Snape sighed. If he gave even one inch on this idea of hers, she would run with it until the school was in ruins and half the Ministry was swarming the halls. Then where would they get the privacy they needed to finally complete their plan?

Snape leaned forward and plucked the bottle easily from her hand. "Why don't you let me hold on to this? If I can't find another way, the next time she has food sent up, I'll go into the kitchens and add some to the drinks."

"What if she doesn't drink any of it? You know how she is about her tea."

"Look, I'll put a curse on any of the three if it becomes necessary. I don't particularly care which of them it is. None of them eat breakfast in her office. It will keep Minerva out of her office for at least a few minutes while she deals with the situation." He slipped the bottle into his pocket and stood. "I don't want you making a move until everything is in place. We still have to remain low-key for the time being."

A glare was her only response.

"The Dark Lord will reward you for your patience, Bella. Keep that in mind if you feel one of your…impulses." At her continued frown, Snape left her office and headed down the hall to his own.


	35. Hope

"May I be of assistance?"

Snape jumped and turned at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice, frowning as she and Hermione approached the office door. "Your password has changed," he said.

"Well, yes. Though I don't see why that concerns you," she said. One eyebrow lifted in question as she watched him push his wand back into his sleeve. "You have no reason to be in my office. Or near anyone who is inside it." She offered him a small smile. "Did you need something?" McGonagall asked again.

Snape shook his head. His eyes darted quickly to the door and back. "I just wanted to see how you were getting on with the punishment. I know how frustrating it can be to deal with difficult students." He tilted his head towards Hermione, who stood behind the Headmistress balancing a cauldron, a box of potions ingredients and a large book.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger and I are doing quite well, Severus. The students are learning how their past and current actions will affect their future." She smiled faintly again and stepped closer to her door. Snape took a slow step backwards. "Is there any business that needs my attention?"

"No, Minerva. I believe I have everything under control," he responded.

"Good. I am putting the students' lives in your hands. I would hate if you were to disappoint me," McGonagall said.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but isn't your class waiting for you, Professor?"

Snape frowned at Hermione. "You're right as usual, Miss Granger. Good afternoon to you both." He nodded and walked down the hall at a brisk pace, disappearing around the corner as the Headmistress gave the password to her office.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Miss Granger," she said, stepping onto the stairs. "I am suddenly quite glad the Founders saw fit to give this office stronger protections than the Ministry itself. Mr. Potter may owe his life to it."

* * *

"A Ministry employee?"

In spite of the serious nature of her question, Harry nearly laughed at the expression on Professor McGonagall's face. As he'd begun explaining what had been happening his fifth year at Hogwarts, she'd continually interrupted him to ask questions about the various Educational Decrees and had expressed nothing less than a near-comical level of shock at what had happened in the school as a result. His urge to laugh, he knew, was probably a sign that his own mind was near the breaking point.

"Fudge's insecurities had gotten the better of his judgment. He didn't know everything she was doing, but he didn't have a problem with any of it as long as it kept me and Dumbledore under control. After the Minister basically made her more powerful than the Headmaster, Umbridge took over the school and made it hell for all of us."

"And not just because she banned you from playing Quidditch for life," Hermione said.

"That was almost the worst thing," Harry joked in response to her small smile. "We couldn't even complain to anyone outside the school because she was monitoring the fireplaces and mail. It was like being in a Muggle prison." He looked down at his hand and leaned forward to show yet another person the physical scars he would never recover from.

McGonagall frowned and used a word Harry was sure she had never spoken in front of a student, or at all, if he had to guess. She colored lightly and apologized, tracing one finger lightly over the words permanently etched into Harry's hand before releasing him.

"The night we left the school, I didn't think we had a choice," Harry said. "Dumbledore had disappeared when the Minister tried to have him arrested. You had tried to stop Umbridge from getting rid of Hagrid and ended up in St. Mungo's for your trouble. Snape…" Harry frowned. "I know Dumbledore trusted him to work for the Order, but I never did. Every time I questioned it, one of the adult members would always tell me to trust him because Dumbledore did."

He lifted his eyes to take in his girlfriend and Professor McGonagall. "I trusted Dumbledore to keep me alive and help me fight Voldemort. He trusted someone who you already know I don't believe wanted the same thing. Dumbledore also kept a lot of things from me, including the reason he felt Snape could be trusted at all."

"The help he gave the Order before your parents' attack," McGonagall said.

"Yes," Harry said. "But why couldn't he have told me that? Snape has hated me from the first day of class and he never made a secret of it. He made a point of comparing me to my father when he tried to justify why he hates me. I don't understand why Dumbledore never saw what I did—that no matter if my father saved his life, or whatever information he gave all those years ago, his feelings never changed. In that time or this one." Harry shook his head. "I had to open up my mind to a man who would like nothing more than to see me suffer the way my father and his friends went after him. I know my father wasn't perfect, but I don't see why I have to pay for his mistakes. Professor Lupin told me my father grew up a lot after all the stupid things he did, why couldn't Snape?"

Hermione put a hand over his, silently offering her comfort and willing him to continue.

"The night we left, I'd had another vision of the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort was torturing Sirius about getting something for him. And, like I said, there was really no one there to help." He looked at Professor McGonagall. "When Umbridge caught us trying to use her Floo, she cornered me and Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville and Ginny. We were being held in her office when Snape came in. I tried to hint to him what was going on, but he ignored me and left. We managed to get away from her and, against my wishes, everyone followed me to the Ministry." Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was hard thinking about all of this again. Though it had happened less than two weeks ago, it felt like he could still see the battle being fought out, see the bruises on his friends and feel the certainty that they would all die that night and it would be his fault for falling into the trap.

"Voldemort had purposely lured me there to get the prophecy because he couldn't come himself. Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy were both there. The other Death Eaters had their faces covered, but I'm sure it was the same group who met Voldemort in the graveyard at the end of fourth year. During the battle, we hid out from the Death Eaters in a room filled with clocks and other time pieces. That was where they trapped us. I don't even know exactly what happened with the Time-Turner, but one minute I thought they were finally going to get me, the next, a cabinet had broken and I was hit just before I passed out. When I woke up, the room was empty.

"I went upstairs to check the date and I couldn't believe it was just before the one night that had started everything. For me, at least." He looked at both of them and voiced something he hadn't wanted to admit. "I have no idea if that was a coincidence or not. It's strange that the night I'd go back to would be the one that could change my life the most."

"Perhaps it wasn't by chance," McGonagall said softly. "Did you hear what kind of spell hit you?"

"No," Harry responded. "But, I assume it was a Stunning spell or something else harmless. They wanted to get the prophecy from me, they weren't trying to kill me yet. Well, Malfoy wasn't. You should view the memory to see what Bellatrix Lestrange is really like," Harry said, gesturing to the last in the row of labeled bottles. "I don't know if all those years in Azkaban changed her or what. It was strange enough having to go to her class last week, but when she was pretending to be nice to me…it made my blood run cold."

"I can imagine," Hermione said. "The way she was looking at you in class was quite odd. I wonder what Professor Snape had her doing over the summer to get you to open up to her."

"Not enough, apparently." Harry turned and craned his neck to peek into the cauldron at the far end of the table. "What is the potion supposed to look like when it's done?"

"Clear," Hermione responded. She glanced down at the book page quickly for confirmation. "It should turn light gold just before it's finished and be clear when it reaches the final stage."

"I think we're there," Harry said.

Professor McGonagall stood and walked over to the cauldron. She put out the flame quickly and cooled the potion with a quick flick of her wand. She quickly conjured one large clear glass and siphoned a measure of the potion into it. Placing it in the center of the table, she sat and pulled a book in front of her, searching for the first spell they would test.

"It looks perfectly harmless," Hermione said.

"It is for now," Professor McGonagall said. "Ah, here we are." She pointed her wand at the glass and said, "_Venenum__ Verto Aqua_."

As Harry and Hermione watched the glass, the potion inside took on no visible change. "What was it supposed to do?" Harry asked.

The Headmistress smiled. "You'll see." Pointing her wand again, she said, "_Specialis__ Revelio_." Again, there was no change in the potion's appearance. The spell didn't seem to have affected it at all.

Harry frowned and his brow furrowed in confusion. "So—?"

"I don't believe it!" Hermione reached forward and picked up the glass. She sniffed the contents. "It's taken on the properties of water. That's what you did, isn't it Professor?"

She nodded. "Not only can the potion appear as another substance, it is undetectable even before it is given to someone. If I wasn't so sure about the food supply at Hogwarts, that would be a major concern."

"So how can we know if this can be used to cure me?"

"We have to determine exactly which ailments you're currently suffering from. I'm positive the Senium Curse is the most complicated. Once we find a way to cure you of that one, the rest should be fairly easy to identify and eliminate," McGonagall said.

"Which only leaves us to unravel a Death Eater conspiracy to restore Voldemort to a body and possibly take over the Ministry," Harry said. "Right. Easy going from here."

Hermione put her arms around him and leaned onto his shoulder. "It really is easy going from here, Harry. This was the hard part. The Ministry can take of everything else. You don't have to stop them yourself. I think giving the Minister all of your memories and our notes will be enough of a contribution."

"I agree with Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "You've had more than enough direct involvement. Once we're sure this possible cure works, I think you should leave school and take refuge somewhere until the entire situation is resolved."

"Leave school?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Once the Minister has all the information he needs to make arrests and your counterpart is recovering at St. Mungo's, there's no reason for you to continue attending classes." She picked up the glass and brought it close to herself again. "As a matter of fact, you should be able to return to the right date if this cure works."

"Oh, that's right," Hermione said. "You won't be stuck doing the entire school year's worth of homework again."

"But wait, how is that going to work?" Harry asked. "In this time, I would have no reason to use a Time-Turner next June or even access to one. So, what's going to happen to me on that date when I'm supposed to go back in time? Am I going to just disappear from existence and all of my memories along with me? Or will the other me suddenly not be here anymore and _I_ will take his place?"

"Yes, it is rather complex," McGonagall said. "I suppose someone from the Department of Mysteries will answer that question when the time comes. In the meantime, I want to run a few more tests on this potion." She summoned the pitcher of pumpkin juice leftover from their dinner and refilled it with a tap from her wand. Pointing her wand at the glass in front of her, she said, "_Muto Substantia_" and poured a measure of it into the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Before Professor McGonagall could do anything else, Hermione pointed her wand at the pitcher and said, "_Specialis__ Revelio_." She gasped as nothing happened to the liquid inside the pitcher. "It looks and acts like plain pumpkin juice! This is so exciting."

"An exciting new way to murder someone?"

Hermione frowned at Harry. "No. It's a new way for Healers to cure people. What we've found could lead to a whole new branch of medicine. Can you imagine the time it will save them administering cures repeatedly or attempting to reverse spell damage from nasty curses when they can use this potion?"

"Assuming the cure works," Harry said.

"Yes, Harry." Hermione sighed. "Assuming your lovely attitude has led to us finding a way to save your life."

"There's nothing wrong with my attitude, I'm just not getting my hopes up until I have a definite reason."

"I noticed," Hermione said shortly. "I'll be glad when you have nothing left to complain about and you can stop moping around."

"Students." Harry and Hermione looked up to find Professor McGonagall regarding them over the tops of her spectacles. "As you are both weary of the subject matter, perhaps we had better end our session early today. Get some rest." She reached over and closed the copy of _Magick Most Evile_. "Think about something else."

"What about the potion?" Hermione asked. "I thought we could go to the hospital and try to cure Harry tonight. If we've found the solution—"

"Then Mr. Potter will be most glad to receive it in the morning. Visiting hours at St. Mungo's ended a little while ago," she said. "Besides, I don't think either of you should be seen going to the hospital."

"The Invisibility Cloak," they said together.

McGonagall nodded. "In the morning, just after breakfast. We'll try a few more tests and then get the Minister to escort us to the hospital to see if our cure will work."

"But Professor—"

"Get some rest, Miss Granger." The Headmistress stood and pointed towards her door, not relaxing until both Harry and Hermione had left her office. She sat back into her chair and sighed. She hoped this was the solution they had been searching for. For her own sake as much as Harry's. If those two kept going back and forth that way, she'd lose her patience entirely before week's end.


	36. Progress

"Where is Professor McGonagall? I'm ready to go."

Harry looked up to where Hermione was pacing back and forth in front of the Headmistress's desk, her robes swishing in the air at every turn. "Worrying about it won't make it happen sooner. She probably hasn't even had a chance to finish her breakfast yet."

"This is more important than eating," she responded.

"Clearly, as you didn't bother eating anything yourself," Harry said. "Sit down or the worrying on top of your empty stomach will make you sick."

Hermione sat next to him, still agitated. "Why are you so calm about this? We could be saving your life."

"Maybe." Harry shrugged. "Either it'll work or it won't. There's no point in worrying about it. If I die—"

"You will not die," Hermione said vehemently.

"Then stop worrying." Harry smiled before returning to the book on Transitive Potion Theory Professor McGonagall had unearthed from the dustiest recesses of the library. It was N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, far more advanced than anything Harry had gotten a chance to study so far. It was easy enough to understand, though.

Only certain types of spells could be added to a potion, and even the effects of those would be temporary if the intended recipient hadn't ingested enough of the potion. There was a small section in the back of the book on strengthening potions through spells and another cautioning users against the types of spells used with this branch of magic. Harry took note of the list of spells wizards were cautioned against trying, acknowledging that most of them were those which would cause extreme pain or disfigurement if used, particularly if the potion had been ingested in large doses.

"I still don't see why we couldn't go last night," Hermione said. "She acts like we have all the time in the world to cure you, when really—"

"When really, a few hours isn't going to make that much difference, Hermione," Harry said, cutting her off. "It would be unusual enough for Professor McGonagall to leave school grounds at night to visit someone who no one is supposed to know is at St. Mungo's, but carrying some strange potion she thinks may be a cure and insisting she be allowed to see me after hours? It would've drawn a lot more attention than we want. Even if the potion works, it'll probably be a while before I recover completely. In the meantime, no one can know what we're doing."

"I know, but I'm anxious to see this thing done." She stood up and began pacing the office again, mumbling to herself as Harry went back to reading the spells in the book.

He poured a small amount of the potion into a glass and put it in the center of the table. Checking the book again, Harry cast a spell at the potion, smiling when the small amount of liquid erupted into bright orange flames. "Hermione, come look at this."

As the flames spread inside the glass, Hermione walked over. "What is—how did you do that?"

"This one." Harry pushed a finger at the page in _Magick Most Evile_. "I should probably figure out how to put it out, these flames are tricky." He picked up the book and scanned the page quickly, trying to remember where he'd seen the counter curse.

"Harry, that's not fiendfyre, is it?" The panic he could hear in her voice was emphasized by the strong grasp of her fingers on his shoulder as she pulled him away from the table, the book still balanced on his lap.

"Well, yeah. Not a lot, but—"

"But you don't know how to put it out!" Hermione pulled out her wand and began frantically casting spells, shooting water at the circle of flames which had just engulfed the glass it had been encased in. It was now eating a circle through the large wooden table they'd been working on, burning the wood so quickly, Hermione barely had time to pull Harry far enough away that his robes wouldn't catch fire.

As quickly as they'd spread, the flames went out. Seconds later, the table was replaced in it's entirety. Harry turned and spotted an angry Professor McGonagall standing in the corner, her wand now turned on him instead of the spot where fiendfyre had been about to eat through her floor.

"You must have some kind of death wish, Mr. Potter."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I thought I could put it out."

"The problem is you don't think," she said, stepping further into the room. "What would you have done if I hadn't come in? Is there no end to the foolish things you will do before thinking of the consequences?"

Harry started to apologize again and settled for not moving under her hard glare. Her mouth had pressed into a thin line that he knew meant she was trying her best not to say something she would regret later, some words said in anger she couldn't take back. Seconds later, Professor McGonagall went over to examine the damage to her rug, vanishing it after a whispered invective when she realized the hole could not be repaired.

"Is there a reason you were playing with fiendfyre in my office?"

"I just wanted to see if the potion could hold a dark magic spell. That…was the only one I could see the effects of without having someone drink it," Harry said, his eyes now on the singed spot beneath the new table.

"Well, now you know, Potter. If your stepfather had really wanted to kill you immediately, he could've had you burst into cursed flames much as you did my table. Satisfied?"

Harry nodded. "I won't try anything like that ever again."

The Headmistress's eyes narrowed on his face, but she didn't respond to his comment. She motioned for Hermione to take a seat at the table and then joined them. "It seems the situation is as complex as you had guessed. Professor Hagrid found a dead unicorn very early this morning," she continued. "Apparently, it had been struck with several snake bites, quite unusual for such a fast animal."

"So he's in the forest," Hermione said.

"Hiding in the bodies of snakes again," Harry added.

"It appears so," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "Obviously, we have no way to identify him as of yet, but I've asked Professor Hagrid to alert me if any snakes are seen near the school by students, particularly during class times."

"You're worried that Voldemort might try to possess a student," Harry guessed.

She nodded. "I doubt it may happen as he would prefer the body of someone strong if he were to attempt an attack through them, but if he is willing to accept living inside a snake, there is no telling what he might wish to do before Professor Snape and his cohorts are ready to restore him to his own body."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, each letting that information sink in. If Voldemort was willing to possess someone else to get inside the protections of the school, there would be no telling who would be safe to be around once he made his move. If he made one at all. Harry was convinced Snape wouldn't take the chance of Voldemort coming inside the school before he could get him a body, he had already gone out of his way to make sure no one could find out about his plan before it could be completed. Then again, Voldemort wasn't one to wait on anyone else when he was ready to make a move.

"I don't think Harry should go back to the dorms."

Harry looked at Hermione with wide eyes. "What do you mean? There's no reason I shouldn't."

"Of course there is," she said. "He could easily possess one of your roommates to get to you."

"He's not after me," Harry countered.

"Or worse, he could possess you or Neville," she said, ignoring his interruption. She turned to Professor McGonagall. "Don't you agree that whatever connection they have with him could be dangerous if he were to use it? If Harry sleeps here—"

"I am not moving into this office," he said. "Hermione, nothing has happened where we have to take steps like that."

"I agree with Mr. Potter. The time has not come for us to panic."

Harry nodded at her words. "If it really comes down to it, I'd rather leave altogether or hide in the Room of Requirement at night. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would prefer a few hours without us around."

"Well, I didn't mean you'd sleep in her _bedroom_, just that you'd be safer here than anywhere else," Hermione said. "You and Neville. We'd have to hide both of you."

"What happened to letting the Ministry take care of everything?" Harry asked. "I'm not supposed to worry about anything but not dying, remember?"

"Speaking of that," Professor McGonagall said. "I suppose it's a good thing I prepared more of that potion last night or you'd have to wait until this afternoon to find out if our cure works." She motioned to the collection of glass vials on her desk. "I think I've brewed enough that the Healers should be able to deal with all of your various ailments in a reasonable amount of time."

"Can we go now?" Hermione asked.

The Headmistress nodded. She spoke instructions to the portrait on the other side of her desk and motioned her wand towards her fireplace, allowing their escort to step through a couple of minutes later.

"Summoning me so quickly?" Dumbledore asked. "I had thought I would get through all of Harry's memories before being told who my culprit is."

"We wished to see you for another reason," McGonagall said. "We think we may have discovered a cure." As he seemed poised to speak, she stopped him. "Or, at best, a temporary way to stop the curses from spreading if it should work."

"Curses?"

"We believe so, sir," Hermione said. "There's nothing left to do but go to the hospital and test it. That is, if you're available to take us with you right now."

Dumbledore looked around at them in surprise. "I hadn't expected you to find anything at all, let alone this soon. Although, I don't feel it wise to bring all of you to the hospital, particularly you, Miss Granger. I understand you and Harry are very close. It will most likely upset you to see him in his current condition."

"We're all going, Albus," McGonagall said. "She has read his file and is adequately prepared for what we will see. Hermione has earned the right to visit with him for a few minutes, especially to see if the cure she helped discover will eventually save his life."

"What did you discover? I'm sure the Healers will be elated to hear of it."

"We'll be happy to explain all of it to them," Harry said. He went over to his bag and pulled out the overwritten copy of Advanced Potion Making. "Or, at least, Professor McGonagall will. Hermione and I have agreed to not be seen." He held up the edge of his Invisibility Cloak before sliding it into his pocket on top of his wand.

"I have to say, I do not believe this is a wise decision," Dumbledore said. "Of course I'd like to see Harry cured as much as all of you, but taking you to the hospital would be a bit excessive. You still haven't told me who you suspect. I think we should have a discussion about that before we go any further."

McGonagall crossed her arms and stared at the Minister over the top of her spectacles. "You would rather sit around talking than take a few minutes to save a young man's life? The other situation can wait for at least another week, though I don't expect it to take that long. Harry, on the other hand, needs every second of recovery we can give him."

"Minerva, you know how deeply I am concerned about Harry's recovery. I am just as worried about a brewing situation which could prove deadly to a great deal of the Wizarding World," he said. He turned to Harry and Hermione, who stood holding hands behind the Headmistress. "Why wait any longer? Don't you understand that the quicker we arrest this person and whoever else is involved, the sooner you can all rest easy?"

McGonagall moved to block his view of both students. "Do not put this on the children, it is my decision. We are close to the incontrovertible evidence we need for the convictions I'm sure you'll seek instead of a more personal punishment," she said, raising both brows for emphasis.

"I understand that as Minister, you may demand any information you like and expect compliance from all who do not wish to be in violation of the law, particularly when the information involves dangerous persons. However, as a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, you are bound to serve the current Headmistress. Fond as you are of ancient magic, I thought you would have remembered that, Albus. I don't have to explain myself to you to obtain your assistance." She motioned to the fireplace he had stepped from minutes before. "Shall we go to your office, then?"

Without waiting for a reaction from either of the adults, Hermione picked up two of the corked vials on the Headmistress's desk and slipped them into her robe pocket, stepping into the fireplace with Harry. The Headmistress and Minister followed.

Minutes later, they found themselves tiptoeing into the hospital room where Harry had been hidden, the sound of his labored breathing the only noise in the small, stark room.

"Oh my god!" Hermione slipped from under the cloak and rushed to the bedside, tears quickly forming in her eyes as she took in the pale form on the bed.

Professor McGonagall sealed the door quickly and joined Hermione, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder as she took in Harry's condition with her own eyes. They stared at the young man in the bed, his girlfriend trying to control the sudden rush of tears, the Headmistress wondering if she'd been too hasty denying Harry permission to kill the person responsible. Though it may not have been Severus Snape who enacted the curse, he was as much responsible as the person who had done the deed, she was sure of it.

Harry felt a strange hint of jealousy at watching Hermione cry over a version of himself several months in his own past, a person he had never been, but still was by some twisted mangling of fate and time. He turned away from the scene, staring at a blank space of the wall until Dumbledore approached him.

"Harry, I'm impressed by your progress in learning to extract your memories. Perhaps you'd like to try it again," he said.

"I'm sorry?"

"There's something you can try, assuming this healing potion takes immediate affect," Dumbledore said. "It is currently difficult to read your thoughts, partly because of your physical condition, but if it were to improve—"

"You could see what happened the day I was attacked," Harry said.

The older wizard nodded. "Also, you could use Legilimency to see your own memories. It would be strange, I'm sure, but you could then extract your memories from that day, enabling us to see the attack exactly as it happened."

Harry frowned at the suggestion. "Professor McGonagall told me it was dangerous to extract memories from another person, particularly someone my age."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry, normally it would be. Though, these are unusual circumstances, aren't they? You would be taking them from yourself. While your memories are not the same as the young man in the bed, your personality and way of thinking are similar enough that there should not be any lasting damage."

"Lasting damage as opposed to temporary brain damage?" Harry asked. "That's not particularly reassuring."

"An alternative would be if you viewed the memories and then extracted them back at Hogwarts. Having the original would be better, but you could turn them in with the rest of your evidence, if you insist on waiting."

"I do," Harry said. "That does sound like a better plan, sir." He glanced over to the bed where Professor McGonagall and Hermione stood watching the two of them. "I think it's time to start."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "Now, while I don't know what to expect, I do think if we've got it wrong, one or both of you may have a reaction. Don't you wish to come closer?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll watch from here."

"Very well," she said.

Hermione took his hand on the bed and then flashed Harry a small smile across the room. She pulled one of the glass vials from her pocket and handed it to Professor McGonagall on the other side of the bed.

Quickly performing the needed spell on it, McGonagall tipped the vial towards Harry's lips and poured a small amount of the potion into his mouth. With a quick flick of her wand, she eased it down his throat, watching closely for any signs of a change. For a few long moments, there was nothing. Then, a soft bloom of color appeared in both of Harry's cheeks. The boy in the bed began to moan and his eyelids fluttered briefly before he settled into a still silence. His breathing had lost the erratic, noisy air immediately noticeable upon entering the room. Encouraged, McGonagall lifted the vial again and brought it to Harry's lips.

Across the room, Harry began to cough. He waved Hermione away when she turned to him. His waving hand became a claw as his throat started to close up completely, leaving him struggling to take in air. "Stop!" he gasped and Hermione turned to him again. Harry went down on both knees, still coughing, now scratching at his throat with both hands.

"Harry!" Hermione ran over to him and caught him when he fell forward, dry coughs forcing air through his tight throat. She gasped in alarm as Harry seemed to flicker in and out of the space where he kneeled, his body disappearing and reappearing in short bursts as he coughed and clawed at his throat.

"Stop!" His voice came out in a high wheeze. Dumbledore came over and kneeled next to Harry, concern making his eyes unreadable. He felt a kind of gentle heat on his back where Dumbledore touched him, but it did nothing to ease the pain in his throat. Harry coughed hard again. Blood burst from his mouth in small drops, dotting the floor as he dropped onto his side on the floor. He pointed to where Professor McGonagall stood over the bed, frozen in place with the vial in her hand. "Killing. Me," he said between coughs. "Potion. Wrong."

As his words reached her, McGonagall withdrew her hand from the boy on the bed and placed the vial on the table. After a painstaking few minutes of suffering, Harry's coughs finally subsided. He sat on the floor with Hermione's arms around him, watching as Professor McGonagall picked up the vial and made adjustments to the spell she'd attempted before.

"Harry, if you don't want me to continue, I can stop now," she said. "We would all understand if you would rather not attempt any more cures today." She paused. "Or at all."

Hermione squeezed him as the Headmistress stopped speaking, trembling as she willed him to make the choice that might save his life or kill him instantly.

"Minerva, is there no other alternative?" Dumbledore asked. "Another type of potion you could try?"

"This is what we've discovered," she said. "Either it will be the solution we seek or we'll have to force the information from Harry's attacker. It's your decision, Harry," she said, nodding to him.

"Do it," he said. Harry coughed lightly and cleared his throat. "If I'm going to live through this, we can't wait too much longer," he said.

McGonagall nodded. "I've changed the potion a bit. I've attached a counter curse to combat the binding spell currently holding the curse in your system. That, in addition to the current healing spell, should produce the results we want."

Hermione squeezed him tight enough to restrict his breathing again as Professor McGonagall brought the vial to his lips on the bed. They all watched in silence as Harry's skin seemed to flush with warm health again, his lips parting on a sigh as the potion began to take effect. It was several long minutes later when they all breathed a sigh of relief, Harry most of all. Whatever unusual route they had taken, the cure seemed to be working. For now. If that binding spell idea was correct, he knew they'd have to counteract it with the same amount of potion that was currently in his system. The same with every curse with which he'd been afflicted. He told the Headmistress this.

"You're right, of course," she said. "Good job to you both for discovering this nasty business to begin with. I don't think I ever would've considered this direction had I been studying the problem on my own. Unfortunate that we couldn't discover it earlier."

Harry nodded, knowing she was talking about the long illness his father had suffered.

"What exactly is in the potion, if you don't mind telling me?" Dumbledore asked. He eyed the clear vial as McGonagall poured the rest down Harry's throat and accepted the other vial from Hermione.

"It's a formula similar to Everlasting Elixir," she responded. "It seems our attacker is quite familiar with Transitive Potions and fond of Dark Magic."

"A potions expert?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to call him that," McGonagall said. "We found books with the proper instructions within Hogwarts." She shook her head as she straightened and put the empty vials into her pocket. "After what happened with Tom Riddle, I'm starting to think quite a few of those books should be removed from student access entirely. I find it hard to believe that _Magick Most Evile_ and other books of that ilk should be readily available for mere academic pursuits."

"What about students who wish to become Aurors?" Dumbledore asked. "They should know as much as possible."

"Yes, they should," she agreed. "I suggest you adjust your training program if you think it should include extensive knowledge of dismemberment curses and Ministry-approved torture techniques."

"The Ministry approves torture?" Hermione asked in a horrified voice.

"Not in the way your Headmistress would like to think," Dumbledore said, a smile coming to his face.

Harry had noticed the mood in the entire room had seemed to lighten since he hadn't collapsed into another fit. Indeed, his own outlook on the days ahead seemed quite a bit brighter than it had been hours earlier.

"The Ministry approves certain…effective techniques to obtain information as long as they are not Unforgivable and do not cause permanent damage," the Minister said.

"That sounds like an extensive list," Hermione said.

"A list of barbaric atrocities that should've gone out centuries ago," McGonagall put in. "If some of them were more widely used, I dare say you would face pressure to outlaw them altogether. As it is—"

"As it is, we find less extreme ways of catching Dark Wizards whenever we can," Dumbledore said. "Speaking of information…"

"I will give Healer Strout the potion we discovered," McGonagall said, picking up the copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ Harry had brought along. "The instructions I'll have to add aren't too difficult. You will bring one of us back here to check on Harry's progress in a few days, won't you?"

Dumbledore bowed his head briefly. "Harry will be ready to leave as soon as he does one thing. We'll wait for you here."

She studied his face for a moment before nodding and leaving the room in search of the Healer.

Dumbledore gestured to the bed. "Legilimency is very easy, Harry. You just have to clear your mind and focus."

Harry approached the bed and stared at the less-ghostly image of himself now laying there. Taking a deep breath, he held out his wand and began.


	37. Concrete Evidence

Hermione looked into his eyes anxiously the moment they sat down in Professor McGonagall's office again. "How was it?" she asked.

"Strange," Harry responded immediately. His eyes followed the Headmistress as she sat down at her desk, listening to his answer. "I haven't seen anyone's memories like that except for Snape's, but this was so…different. It was like looking at myself, but not really. Like seeing another person who looks like me, living a totally different life. Like watching a movie where I know all of the characters, but the story doesn't make sense." He didn't think he was making any sense, but didn't question it when she nodded at his response.

Hermione sat back in her chair and began playing with her hair, an expression of concern fixed on her face. "That does sound unusual, but you had to have expected as much. Did you see anything?"

Harry grinned. "I saw the first time you kissed me." He laughed as Hermione began to blush. He also saw a quite few other things he wasn't going to mention with Professor McGonagall sitting a few feet away. "You ran pretty fast afterwards."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you for reminding me, Harry," she said. "I meant something useful about your attack or anything from this past summer."

"No. Well, I don't know if it's really useful," he said. "My mum and I were arguing about Snape before she left. Then I was at the station talking to Draco on the platform. We were waiting on the Hogwarts Express to arrive, it was that early. Hardly anyone else was there." Harry looked off into space for a moment, trying to recall every detail of what he'd seen.

"Was anyone else there?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "Lucius Malfoy was there, but he didn't come after me or anything, not that I could see. He was just standing a little ways off on the platform."

"Well then, what happened? I got there around ten-thirty and I don't remember you on the train or in the station at all. Draco was already in the Prefects compartment and he said you would be on the train soon."

Harry shook his head. "I couldn't find the exact memory because part of it had been Obliviated. One minute Draco and I were standing there talking about nothing really, drinking bottles of butterbeer—"

"That time of morning?" McGonagall asked. "Unusual drink for just after breakfast."

"I suppose," Harry said. "I don't even know where we got them from. I saw myself talking to Draco, finishing off my drink and then telling him I was going to the bathroom." He shrugged. "Then everything went dark. Dumbledore said we'd try again when I've recovered a bit more. He says he may be able to restore more of the memory when my mind can take it."

"The potion must've been in your drink at the station," Hermione said. "I wonder if Mr. Malfoy had been instructed to give you one last dose before he cursed you. It's not like you can buy butterbeer anywhere near King's Cross. He would've had to bring them with him."

"Or Draco," Harry suggested. "You've seen him in some of my memories. I don't care what our relationship has been like, I don't know if he can be trusted. He was standing there drinking with me. How do I know it wasn't his idea? He was the only person who knew I was in the bathroom."

"It's not a lot to go on," Hermione said. "I suppose we can let the Minister figure it out when we give him everything. He'll have a lot to consider when bringing charges."

"Yeah, assuming he does anything at all. Do you really think he wants anyone to know he trusted Snape all this time when he shouldn't have or that all of his notes on Voldemort were stolen from the Ministry?" Harry asked. "It could make him look like he didn't have control of what was going on, similar to what Fudge had feared when Dumbledore and I were trying to tell him Voldemort was back. I hope the same thing doesn't happen."

"I don't believe the Minister would let pride get the better of his judgment," McGonagall said. "I also do not believe he will let any of the guilty parties get away, if only because he knows I can go to the Wizengamot if he does not."

Harry wanted to believe her assessment of the situation, but he knew all too well what it was like when powerful men feared what would happen to them if their subordinates lost confidence in their abilities. He didn't want to place the risk of Voldemort coming back on Dumbledore's ego. He would personally take care of Snape before any of his plans could be carried out, and he knew exactly how to do it.

"How difficult would it be to get a Pensieve?" Harry asked.

McGonagall looked startled by the question. "Well, I don't know. You could try Dervish and Banges down in Hogsmeade, but it's such an expensive item, they may not carry any. There is at least one shop in Diagon Alley that should have one in stock, but that's not a guarantee either. I suppose you could mail order one. Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I was thinking that if they couldn't get the Key back from me in time, with me in your office most of the day, they might just try to retrieve one of their own memories of reading it and make a copy. Or they could even try Legilimency to duplicate it."

McGonagall shook her head. "It would be better if they were to go through the memory itself instead of trying to view it from someone else. It would be easier to read that way. I don't suppose they'd do that unless it was a last resort," she said. "I don't think it would be easy to procure one quickly at this late date, but Professor Lestrange does have rather extensive resources."

"I've been thinking about that," Hermione said. "If one of them had read it completely, wouldn't they have done something like that before now? Harry stole the Key just before school started and it's been well over a week. Professor Snape wouldn't still be trying to get to Harry if it was as simple as reviewing one of his own memories. He's doing everything as quietly as possible. Why would he keep coming after Harry if he could carry out his plans without it?"

"Because he hates me," Harry said simply.

"That is a good point, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. "Professor Snape is being quite careful, to the point where I am not sure when we will be ready to go forward with what we know. I suppose we'll have to put it in the hands of the Minister before long."

"What are we waiting for, exactly?" Harry asked. "Haven't we done everything we can short of writing a sign on Snape's forehead? What are we waiting on them to do before we turn them in?"

"I…well…"

"We're waiting on solid proof to connect them to everything," Hermione said, interrupting the Headmistress. "So far, we've found Dumbledore's notes in back of a dusty shelf in Potions storage, we've found out how you were cursed, but part of your memory has been erased, and we know you've gotten at least one direct threat from Professor Snape."

"Two," Harry said. "He did it again when he was pushing me around in the Great Hall at breakfast the other day."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But that's not enough for the three of them to go to trial. It's not nearly enough to get them all convicted, even on the Minister's say-so. What we need is proof that Professor Snape or Professor Lestrange have met with You-Know-Who at some point recently and are working to bring him back somehow. Muggles use fingerprints and letters for this type of thing, but we've got to find proof that's concrete or they'll get away with all of it."

"I won't let Snape get away with anything," Harry said. "Now that I've got my life back, there's no way he's going to keep his."

"Harry James Potter!" Harry looked up at the Headmistress's sharp voice. "You will not talk of killing your stepfather again. I do not think you have it in you to murder someone, but I do not wish to be proven wrong."

He nodded briefly at her words but said nothing. He knew what he had to do, in spite of her opinion on the subject. Frowning, Harry considered everything that had happened to his mother and his own life because of Snape. The way forward was clear. He didn't need approval from Professor McGonagall or anyone else to do what needed to be done. He just needed a plan.

"Harry?" He looked over to find Hermione staring at him with a concerned expression. "Are you okay? I've been calling your name for a minute."

"No, I—can you believe it? What we've done today?" He smiled in an effort to cover the dark direction his thoughts had taken. "I can hardly wrap my mind around it. I didn't think it would be possible."

"I know," she remarked. "I was pretty close to agreeing with you." She clutched his hand and smiled back at him. "When we get a moment alone outside this office, I'll be happy to celebrate with you properly." Her whisper was accompanied by the softest of blushes.

Harry looked around. "Where'd Professor McGonagall go? Wasn't she just here?"

"You really were out of it, weren't you?" Hermione asked. "She went over to St. Mungo's to deliver the rest of the potion and ask if they've figured out what other curses you have now that one has been handled. She said we'll have lunch when she gets back and decide where to go from here."

"I'm tired of this, actually," Harry said. "We've been cooped up in this office for almost four days."

"Yes, partially because we needed Professor McGonagall's help and partially for your safety."

"Yeah, I'm safe from Snape, but he's safe from me too," Harry remarked. "I know she doesn't want me to do anything, but it's not murder if I'm defending my life against him. Does she really think I'm going to let him get away with it?"

"Harry, he's not getting away with anything. He's going to Azkaban and the reason why will be made public through the courts. Put it this way," Hermione began. "If we go with the way Professor McGonagall wants to do it, your mother won't blame you for anything and she won't think you're only accusing him for personal reasons. And you'll never have to tell her about using a Time-Turner."

"I hadn't thought about that," Harry said. "I wasn't sure if I should tell her at all. I want her to know about the note and everything. But if I tell her about that—"

"You'd have to tell her pretty much everything else," Hermione finished. "It would disturb her to know everything you've been through."

"You don't think she's going to notice my scar hasn't faded after a while?" he asked. "What about my hand? The only reason she didn't see it Saturday is because I kept it at an angle, but it's not something I can keep a secret forever. I'm going to have to tell her something."

"When it's all over, you can tell her everything," Hermione said. "You could even ask Professor McGonagall to explain it all to her. She's already promised to explain our so-called punishment."

"I'm glad for that. I wasn't looking forward to another lecture." Harry leaned forward and put his head down on the table. "I'm ready for all of this to be over. It feels like this has been going on for months. When can it be done?"

"Hopefully very soon, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. She stepped out of the fireplace and walked to sit across from Harry at the table. "I've given this a little more thought. Auror Tonks is probably the best person to carry on where we left off," she said. "As much as I trust in the Minister's intentions where a potential trial is concerned and as much as you both have done so far, I don't think either of you should be involved further."

"When am I going to leave?" Harry asked.

"As soon as I can arrange it. Both of you, if you have no objections, of course. I will wait until I get a chance to talk to your mother this weekend before I start making arrangements. I don't know how much of the situation I'll be able to tell her before arrests are made."

"But, why should I leave?" Hermione asked.

The Headmistress turned to her, surprised. "With the two of you in here together, if they ever grow suspicious of Harry being missing from school, you will be the first person they approach for information. While I'm confident an arrest can be made soon on the information we've gathered so far, there are no guarantees that either of you will stay safe if you remain at Hogwarts. Especially if there are more involved than the three you have identified. Neither of you can stay holed up in my office forever. There are protections around the school," she continued, "but there's only so much I can do. Especially with two of the culprits inside these very walls. It would be safer if you went into hiding until everything is resolved."

"It makes sense," Harry said, "but how long will I have to be gone? Can't I just try to use the Time-Turner again?"

"The Minister advises against it. He said you may be asked to testify if your recovery at the hospital is not quick enough or if some of your discoveries after coming to school are questioned," she said. "The gist of it is that _you_ made these discoveries, not the version of you that is in the hospital. He is willing to keep your situation in St. Mungo's a secret until the trials are over if your testimony becomes necessary."

McGonagall frowned as she glanced at her desk, picturing the box with Dumbledore's notes just behind it. "I'm not really sure where any of this is going, to tell the truth. I am doing my best to keep you and the other students safe, but I fear someone is going to have to make a move in order for the case to be proven. Having them get caught in the act is out of the question, but—"

"Use me," Harry said. "Tell everyone you've let us off our punishment starting tomorrow and let Snape come after me. If he questions me directly about the Key, you'll have proof that he stole it and is trying to get it back from me. That memory in itself should be enough to suggest he plans to use it."

"Out of the question," McGonagall repeated. "I will not ask you to put yourself in danger—"

"You're not asking," Harry interrupted. "I'm volunteering. I've come back from certain death a couple of times already, I think I can handle Snape getting a little pushy about a piece of parchment. You've seen enough of my memories to know I can defend myself, or at least that I could hold him off until he can be arrested. We could even have an Auror follow me around with my Invisibility Cloak if you're concerned that he'd kill me in the hallway." He glanced at Hermione. "We all know this is probably the only way we're going to get him to say or do something incriminating. Otherwise we'll either be waiting around at least another week for proof or the Wizengamot will bring charges they won't be able to prove. This is it."

"I don't believe that," McGonagall said. "There has to be another way besides putting yourself in danger."

"If you can think of a way, I'd welcome it," Harry said. He turned to Hermione.

"Don't look to me to support this idea of yours." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back in her chair. "If you're determined to do something crazy, you're going to have to do it on your own. Having an Auror follow you around the school is a barely viable option, but—"

"I'm willing to do that," Harry said. "Tonks is more than capable of defending me if it comes down to it."

"Harry, you just got out of one deadly situation, why would you set yourself up for another?" Hermione asked. "I don't care how safe you think it'll be to have someone follow you around school, there are no guarantees. We got lucky with that potion. I'm not even going to get into how you survived that scar," she said, gesturing towards his forehead. "There are only so many times you can tempt fate before it ends differently than you expect."

Professor McGonagall said nothing, seeming to study the grain of the wooden table as Harry and Hermione continued arguing about what to do next. Without warning, she cast a Silencing Charm on both students and continued to think of their options as they waved hands in front of their faces and throats in protest. After a few minutes, she lifted her eyes to find both of them watching her, Hermione red-faced and teary-eyed, Harry glaring.

"Are you both finished?" she asked.

They nodded simultaneously.

"Good. Though, I think I will keep you silent until after lunch." At Harry's additional protest, she added, "Perhaps through the evening. I think we all need some time for silent thought." With that, she left the room to send a message down to the kitchens for lunch.

* * *

"You're sure about this Professor?" Harry asked.

She nodded. The movement made the pounding in her head worse, but she had no immediate wish to take back her decision. Her temporary decision. Until someone acted, there was no point in keeping two anxious, restless students cooped up in her office waiting for proof that would not just walk up and present itself to the courts. They had to do something…drastic. With precautions, of course. McGonagall would never forgive herself if her own wish to see Snape punished led to Harry being hurt or worse.

Hermione crossed her arms and pouted, rolling her eyes as Harry shot her a wide smile.

"So that means I can leave now, right?" Harry asked. He glanced out at the late afternoon sky. "I can still make it to Quidditch practice."

"Is that all you can think about?" Taking a deep breath, Hermione lowered her voice with some effort. "The minute you step outside this door unprotected, your life is in danger. And you want to go flying around the field?"  
"Pitch," Harry corrected. "And yes, I do. I think we both could do with a little relaxation. Come on, Hermione. We've managed to dodge death, discover what could be a new branch of medicine," he said with a smile at her, "and finish most of our assignments for the week in record time. You could use a few hours to not worry. I could use some practice before I get kicked off the House team."

"You won't get kicked off," she said in a small voice. "You're too good."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know that. Dean is still reserve Seeker." He grabbed her hand. "Come on, if you're so afraid of something happening to me in mid-air, you can stand there with your wand out and hex anyone who comes without 100 feet of us during practice."

"That is my advice as well," McGonagall said. "Not that you should cast spells at anyone approaching," she said as Hermione turned to her in alarm, "but that you should stick together when outside this office. I think spending the afternoon and evening among your classmates will be beneficial to you both. You can resume completing your assignments here after breakfast tomorrow."

"In the meantime, we can go?" Harry asked again.

"In the meantime, Harry shouldn't go looking for a fight?" Hermione asked, squeezing his hand as she spoke.

"Yes to you both." McGonagall sighed. "Harry, I've already told you, if you do something reckless, there is little I will be able to do to protect you. I'll send Auror Tonks to escort you from practice back to your common room, and she will escort you from the Great Hall back here tomorrow morning. The four of us can discuss what needs to be done then. You are not to make a move on any private plans of yours until then. Am I clear?"

Harry nodded and practically ran to the door, dragging Hermione behind him before she could protest again. If it were left up to her, they'd remain in hiding forever.


	38. Long Term Agendas

"You really are going to do it?"

Harry ignored the censuring tone to her voice and added the last ingredient to the potion. He stirred it the requisite number of times before lowering the flame, getting rid of the parchment he'd copied the potion onto and joining the frowning girl on the sofa. She'd been crying, pleading and railing at him for the past hour and still had yet to convince herself that yes, he was very serious about what he was going to do.

"So you're not going to answer me?"

"Hermione, you know what I have to do," Harry said. "I'm not going to continue arguing with you about this. He deserves a hell of lot worse."

"No one deserves to die," she responded. At Harry's frown, she touched his hand tentatively, pulling his fingers open when he curled them into a fist. "I know how you feel."

"You have no idea how I feel," he interrupted.

"I have a good idea," she corrected. "I thought about doing it too, until this morning. Now that I know you're going to live—"

"You're okay with letting him off the hook?" Harry asked.

"He's not off the hook! Why do you keep acting like he's escaped?" She pulled Harry closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know it's hard to think of it this way, but it's better if all of this goes through the courts. I don't want to think you could do something so cold—" She broke off as she felt him stiffen next to her. "Promise me something." He said nothing when she fell silent. "Don't do anything until you know for sure what the Wizengamot is going to do. I—" She swallowed hard. "I'll stand behind whatever decision you make after that."

He turned to her. "You're sure about that?"

She nodded. "Though I'm not sure Professor McGonagall wouldn't beat you to it if Professor Snape walks out of court."

"I doubt that," Harry said.

"You haven't seen how angry she's been," Hermione said. "After she read your medical file—you were still at breakfast—she was pacing her office and swearing. I know how she felt. I suppose I should've known better than to read it myself."

"At least it's over," he said. "Most of it. I still think this whole discussion is ridiculous," Harry began. "I know for a fact Fudge had Sirius thrown into Azkaban without a trial when he thought he'd had my parents killed."

"Well, yes," Hermione said. "Wasn't he found among a ton of wreckage, with nothing but Pettigrew's finger to prove that someone else had been there?"

"Yes, but my point is Dumbledore could have the lot of them locked up if he wanted to. He can get evidence later. We know it's possible to extract memories from someone else."

"Professor McGonagall said that's dangerous."

"I don't care," Harry replied. "Plus, there's always truth serums. Or one of those interesting Ministry approved methods of gathering information."

Hermione forced out a dry laugh. "Perhaps you could convince the Minister to let you question him yourself since you're so eager to hurt him."

"I'm not—Hermione, I thought you understood. I don't have this thirst for violence or whatever. This man has hurt my family in ways I can't even describe. He has to pay for it." He touched her chin and turned her face up to his. "I'm not going to let him hurt my mother anymore. I would do anything to protect the people I care about."

"That's one of the reasons I love you," she said before pressing her lips to his. After a few seconds, Harry turned away. Hermione leaned forward to kiss him again, frowning when he pulled back. "I thought we'd agreed you wouldn't fight me anymore," she said. "All I want is—"

"I think its pretty obvious what you want," he replied. "I thought we'd agreed you wouldn't push me."

"You're not really going to hold me to that, are you?" As she stared at Harry, he started to smile, in spite of his reservations. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't argue with you for the rest of tonight and tomorrow, if you can…sufficiently distract me now." She slid a hand over his back and snuggled closer to his side.

"You're not afraid of moving too fast?"

"Honestly! I've never seen a boy fight so much against something—or someone he wants." Ignoring Harry's smirk, Hermione unzipped her school robes and tossed them onto the floor. Her tie followed. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, her eyes on the face of the boy next to her.

"I promised you earlier that we'd celebrate your return to health properly." She reached out and unzipped his robes. "There's no need to be shy, Harry." She turned half-lidded eyes up to his. Leaning close, she let her lips brush his briefly before pulling millimeters away to whisper, "Tell me you want this as much as I do."

He didn't respond in words, but didn't offer a protest as she kissed him again, this time pressing her body against his as she slid his school robes from his shoulders. Without warning, everything he'd told himself about having control with regards to their relationship flooded to the forefront of his mind. He'd spent the past several days pushing it all to the back of his thoughts, enjoying the moments they were together as if they would be the last of only a few. Now that he knew his life wouldn't abruptly end in a few months, was he willing to live his life as if every moment had to be taken advantage of?

A hand sliding against the inside of his thigh gave him pause. "Hermione, we should talk about this." She responded by pressing her mouth against his neck and nipping at his skin lightly. She slid one leg against his, sighing as she inched closer to him. "Just because I'm not going to die, doesn't mean we should just jump into things."

"You make everything too serious."

He wanted to laugh. That line coming from Hermione was near-priceless. He thought back to where they'd been a week ago, in the Prefects' bathroom. She'd said she saw him as the same person and loved him the same. A lot had happened since then. Did he believe her? Did he care? Did he feel the same?

As the questions swirled through his mind, he got up from the sofa and went to check on the bubbling potion. When he put the low flame out, he felt her hands snake around his torso from behind and come to rest on his chest. He turned in her arms and felt a surge of an emotion he was scared to name as she slipped her arms up to his neck and pulled him closer.

"I know how you feel," she whispered. Her tone was much softer than before. It held a note of emotion that echoed her thoughts. "I was where you are now just a few months ago. I know you're not ready for everything I'm ready for." She pressed her lips to his briefly. "I'm willing to take things as slow as you need me to." She pulled one of his arms tighter around her waist. "I just need to be close to you. After—" She closed her eyes and he could feel her take a deep breath. He knew she was thinking of seeing him lying in a hospital bed that morning, weak and dying. And holding him as he coughed up blood. "Please, just let me have that."

It wasn't about sex, but a need to feel something…substantial from him. After all they'd done and seen over the past few days, he could sort of understand why she wanted that closeness, but didn't she understand how hard it was for him to not succumb to something he might regret later?

"Hermione…"

"Harry, I could easily immobilize you and have my way with you on that bed," she said, motioning to the object on the other side of the table. Hermione smiled and began backing her way towards the sofa, pulling him by the tips of his fingers. She pushed him down onto it and straddled his legs before he could stop her. "Just put your arms around me. I've told you, you'll enjoy it a lot more when the feelings are mutual. Consider this a preview of things to come." She pressed her lips to his again and began unbuttoning his shirt. She sighed loudly when he turned his head away from hers.

"What if I can never give you what you want? I'm not ready."

She wiggled around on his lap, feeling the evidence of his desire pressing against her leg through his pants. "Liar," she whispered. Hermione stared into his eyes for a long moment and then smiled slowly before kissing Harry. "You know what's great about being with you? You don't want to rush things between us. It's sweet. You want to enjoy every moment as much as I do and you don't want to hurt me. Stop over-thinking it. I know you're not in love, but you are so close," she whispered, her voice rising on the last word.

"I don't want you to feel guilty about anything. You've spent the last few years carrying around guilt over things you couldn't control." She shook her head. "I can't change that, but I can tell you this. I know exactly what I'm getting into with you and I still want you. I'm going into this with my eyes wide open. You're not going to hurt me." She kissed him again. "But, if you keep pushing me away, I may have to hurt you."

He cracked a smile at that and she continued. "I know I've told you this before, but you have to be willing to open up to me. Give us a chance. A real one. It's very easy to hold my hand in the hall or hug me when I'm crying, but true intimacy is about more than that. We don't have to have sex tonight, but when we do, I don't care if it means exactly the same to you as it does to me." She sighed. "It will in time. That is enough for me. It should be for you too."

"Hermione…"

"If you're going to say no again, just know that I don't fancy kissing someone under the Imperius Curse, but I will do it."

He laughed. "You will not hex me and you know it."

She struggled to hold down a smile for a few seconds before finally giving in. "I know you. Stop fighting. It's been driving me crazy that I got to spend all day in the same room with you this week and we could barely touch."

Harry put a hand to her back and then slid his other hand to her leg, stopping at the edge of her skirt. "And now?"

"Now I know you're going to make it. So are we," she said.

"A lot has happened this week—"

"Harry!" Hermione shoved him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Are you going to let me talk?" When she frowned, he continued. "You're right, I don't want to hurt you. You've had years to get used to us being together."

"Not this way," she countered.

"And I've had days," he said as if she hadn't interrupted. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to take you over to that bed right now. The only thing stopping me is…" He stopped. What exactly was stopping him?

Hermione answered for him. "You're afraid to admit you're falling in love with me." She hadn't phrased it as a question and didn't really need an answer. She smiled. "You know, it's okay for a guy to admit to a girl what he's feeling, even if it's hard to explain." When he closed his eyes, she put a hand to the side of his face, willing him to look at her again. "I know you said you grew up in a loveless home, but you can't run away when you do finally have someone that loves you, especially if you're starting to feel the same. It's a new experience, but you have to let it happen."

"What if I don't know how to do that?"

She smiled and leaned close to him. "I'll show you."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stepped through the green flames and into the Headmistress's office, a small smile on his face. "Twice in one day, Minerva? What have I done to earn the privilege?"

She frowned and motioned the older wizard towards a chair even as he transfigured it into the cushy chintz he preferred. "It's late. I don't think either of us wishes to exchange pretend pleasantries. What do you need to go to trial?"

"I don't need anything," he responded. At her raised eyebrow, he said, "It is you who thinks he deserves a trial. I'm ready to go after him now."

"But…so you know then?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I suspected a few days ago, but just now, after watching Harry's memory of meeting his godfather in the Shrieking Shack, I have to say I should've seen it sooner." He leaned back into the chair and drummed his fingers along the armrest. "I must've been blind not to see it before. Severus would've been the only person to benefit from Lily losing her husband. But it was years before they…." He raised his eyes to McGonagall. "Why go after Harry?"

"Because he's been planning to bring Voldemort back to power and the boy found out he was hiding something. The question is, did you know?"

"Did I know what?"

McGonagall glared at him. She was tired as it was and she was hardly in the mood to play games with the former Headmaster.

"Yes, I knew he was truly a Death Eater a long while ago, but I thought his allegiance had changed."

"What would make you think that? Never mind that," she said. "Why would you have hired him, or Bellatrix Lestrange, to work around children knowing what they were capable of?"

"Bellatrix?" Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair. "What do you mean?"

"Don't toy with me, Albus. Your spy told you everything he could about Voldemort's supporters when he was active. He had to have told you Bella was a part of his inner circle."

Dumbledore frowned and watched as McGonagall began pacing around her office. "No, he did not. He claimed few of them knew each other's identities and only Voldemort knew them all. He felt safer that way."

"He trusted them as little as he trusted anyone else."

"I suppose so," Dumbledore said. "So you've brought me here to find out what I intend to do to Severus?"

"I brought you here because I need to find a safe place for Harry, Lily and Raven to go. As soon as I explain the situation to Lily. Possibly Hermione Granger, as well. She's gotten herself mixed up in this and could easily suffer consequences if…well if you don't take care of what needs to be done," she said.

"My Minerva, your tone is positively _dark_," Dumbledore said. "I'd hate to see how far that could go."

"Spare me," she said. "What do the courts require in the way of proof? I want them away from my students as soon as possible. It's taken everything in me not to kill that—" She stopped and cleared her throat. "Harry has volunteered to let his stepfather confront him. He seems to think he'll be able to get some sort of confession and we can use his memory for a conviction. Even after seeing all he's been through, I have to say, the boy's got to be out of his mind if he wants to—"

"It's an idea with merit."

"Excuse me?" She stopped pacing and stared at the Minister, a frown pulling down her features. "You can't be serious."

"Again, you're the one that wants to go through the courts," he responded.

"Then you're as crazy as he is. I will not condone a fifteen-year-old child volunteering to be bait. And vigilante violence is hardly the order of the day."

"A quick death at my hand is better than Severus deserves," Dumbledore said, echoing her own thoughts from days before. "What do you suggest we do since you do not approve of Harry's idea? What evidence do you have against him that will hold up in court?"

"The curse that was used to kill James." McGonagall glanced around until she spotted the copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ Harry had been poring over earlier. "Look at this." She opened it to the inside front cover and showed him the name written there. Then she flipped to the page containing the scribblings over Everlasting Elixir.

"This is what you used to create a cure."

"This is what Severus used to slowly kill James Potter. He wrote dark spells throughout this book," she said, flipping through several pages and pointing. "I didn't want to tell Harry. He's livid enough. But to know Severus had been plotting this for years…" Conjuring a large magnifying glass quickly, she stopped at one page and pointed to a spell marked 'for enemies'. Below it, in barely legible faded script, were the initials J.P.

"There are at least half a dozen spells I'm sure the Ministry has never heard of, and most of them have James's initials underneath. Or S.B. for Sirius Black. Harry was too busy reading potions in this book to notice it. Do you remember, their fifth year, when James came to the hospital wing with his face cut open?" She pointed to the page. "That was this spell. Severus spent most of his time at school attempting to find ways, not only to get back at James and his friends for their teasing, but to murder him. Now I question every time James was sick when he was enrolled here. Thankfully, he did not get a chance to slip James or anyone else that elixir before graduating. It's a wonder we haven't had a lot more unexplainable deaths."

"Perhaps we would have if Lily had refused his advances."

"What will we do about her, Albus?" McGonagall frowned. "You know how fragile she was after James died. She was dependent on us for so many things and we told her to turn to her friends for comfort. When she told me they were getting married, I said James would've wanted her to be happy."

"Is that what bothers you about this? Aren't you the one who said we can't blame ourselves for how dark some people go?" Dumbledore asked.

"There is blood on everyone's hands," McGonagall said. "Where Severus is concerned, at least one of us should have had questions. Lily didn't speak to him for years and he became…different. We all saw it. Suddenly he's at Voldemort's side and reporting to us. Why didn't any of us notice that something was off?"

"We wanted to believe he could truly be on our side."

"We wanted to believe Voldemort couldn't turn everyone dark," she said after a long silence. "I still want to believe that every person's life he touched will not turn to violence. Especially Harry. He is hell-bent on revenge and I do not want him to murder anyone, no matter how justified."

"I wouldn't send him to Azkaban," Dumbledore said.

"And what would that teach him? That it's okay to murder someone if you have a good reason?"

"Teach him? This is not a lesson he needs to learn. This is a young man's life. Severus will suffer—if not the Dementor's kiss, then at the end of my wand." Dumbledore stood and faced the Headmistress. "Auror Tonks will help you with whatever Harry wants to do. Short of murder," he added. "If you can get Severus to confess anything, any small thing will do, I will make sure he doesn't get away." As she opened her mouth to speak, he said, "This is the best I can do in the name of justice. If the situation is not resolved by next week, I will take care of it my way. I have no worries about my immortal soul," he said. "I'll make sure Lily and everyone else are kept safe." Inclining his head in her direction briefly, he stopped back into the fireplace and left.

McGonagall resumed pacing around her office. Her feelings on murder had changed quite drastically over the past week and a half, but she still had no desire to see Harry become more like his stepfather than he knew. She glanced down at the book before slamming it closed. Then again, she wouldn't go out of her way to stop him if there was no other way for this to end.

* * *

Hermione pushed Harry's shoulder back onto the sofa when he attempted to get up again. He motioned pointedly towards his watch, but she ignored him, drawing him into another kiss. Groaning at his own weakness, Harry ran his hands over her back as she pressed her body to his and returned the kiss with fervor.

After a long while, she pulled away and rested her head against his chest, settling her legs firmly on either side of him. "This is so hard."

"I know."

Hermione blushed. "I meant stopping." She leaned up and kissed his neck. "Are you sure we can't?"

"We could, but I think it would bother you if I shrugged like it meant nothing after," Harry said.

"You wouldn't do that."

"No, but I am starting to feel a bit violated. I always thought this sex thing came in stages. Shouldn't there be more than two?"

"You mean between kissing and getting naked?" Harry felt her laugh against his chest. "I rather like the idea of skipping any step in between with you. You're not going to be able to say no for much longer. I think you've got less than a week before I stop taking no for an answer."

"When have you ever listened when I said no?"

She giggled again and kissed her favorite spot beneath his ear. He shivered. "I'm going easy on you now, Harry Potter. You can't hold out forever."

"Who says I want to?" It had slipped out before he could think about it. The smirk on Hermione's face as she sat up told him his confession had been noted.

"Right," she said. "I won't be threatening you with hexes anymore. As a matter of fact, I have a feeling you'll be begging _me_ before long." With that, she resumed kissing his neck, grinning when he pushed her away and sat up abruptly. Hermione knew, even as he stood and began straightening his clothes, Harry was so close to the edge he could barely breathe for wanting her. All it would take was just one more push. Given the circumstances, she could wait just a little while longer.


	39. Plan A

"Wow."

Harry looked up from his bowl of cereal. Ron was poring over a copy of the morning's paper, his eyes wide as he scanned the page. "What is it?" Harry asked.

With several pairs of eyes on him, Ron began reading from the _Daily Prophet_. "'Minister Albus Dumbledore ordered the Magical Law Enforcement Squad to arrest Rita Skeeter early this morning after an anonymous tip that the reporter is an unregistered Animagus.'"

Harry and Hermione exchanged brief looks. Thanks to him, Dumbledore knew everything from Rita Skeeter's Animagus form down to her identifying markings. He was surprised that the Minister had already managed to get through his fourth year memories, or at least the notes that accompanied them. With the Minister's schedule, Harry had thought it would take at least another couple of days.

"'According to the Minister'," Ron continued, "'Ms. Skeeter may also be charged with several dozen counts of criminal trespass for the tactics she used to obtain information for her sometimes outrageous articles. All potential witnesses are asked to send a message by owl to the Improper Use of Magic Office with information on alleged offenses.'" Ron looked up from the paper. "Their office will be flooded with owls before lunch."

"Right," Neville said. "I always wondered how she got so much information; she claimed she had sources inside the Ministry."

"At least she won't be able to write any more stories about you," Lavender said. "You'd think people would get tired of hearing how The Boy Who Lived went shopping for schoolbooks with his grandmother."

Parvati shrugged. "You'd be surprised what some people find interesting. I'm shocked she didn't get wind of what happened the other day, the way everyone here was talking about it." She turned. "You didn't find out anything else, did you Harry?"

He began coughing then, choking down the mouthful of cereal he'd been chewing. "No." He coughed again and Hermione turned in alarmed. Neville gave him a questioning look. "I think that was the end of it. I've been fine all week."

"I'll bet." Parvati smiled and adjusted her gaze to take in Hermione sitting between the two of them. "That would explain the marks on your neck."

"The what?" Harry began reaching for his neck before he realized Parvati must have been joking. "Very funny. There shouldn't be anything there."

"Then tell your girlfriend not to use her teeth next time," Lavender said. She pulled a small make-up compact out of her pocket and opened it, offering it to Harry from across the table.

He didn't know if that was a sign she was no longer irritated with him or if she just wanted to share in the teasing. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and quickly spotted the small markings where Hermione had gotten too excited the night before. Moving the mirror higher, he also saw a light bruise just below his ear. He handed the compact back to Lavender, a deep blush warming his face.

"Hermione, you really should be more careful," Parvati started. "Haven't you guys gotten into enough trouble already?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione responded. To cover up her corresponding grin, she bit into a piece of toast, struggling not to laugh as Harry looked at her. "We've just been working on stuff for class."

"They do _not_ teach that at Hogwarts," Ron said, "Or I'd be the first one to sign up for extra lessons." At his statement, he and Parvati briefly looked at each other before Ron's eyes shot down to his plate and he began wolfing down bacon, consciously not looking up again.

"Parvati?" She turned to Hermione. "You know, instead of picking on me and Harry, you should try finding someone to spend time with yourself. Unless you get all you need from Lavender." The other girl's mouth dropped open. "Then again," Hermione continued. "She's got Neville and we all know how that's going."

Neville put his glass down of pumpkin juice. "What do you mean, 'we all know'?" A blush staining his cheeks, he turned to Lavender. "What have you told them?" Lavender pressed her lips together and shook her head, looking across the table at her best friend for help. Parvati didn't notice as she was still waiting for Hermione to finish.

"I'm just saying," Hermione said in a louder voice. "If you're going to spend so much time with the two of them, and Ron," she smiled at him, "watching what _other people_ do together, you should at least consider—" Hermione made a small moan of protest as Harry popped a handful of grapes into her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Harry said as both Neville and Ron laughed. "You looked like you really wanted to stop talking just then. I thought I'd help."

"What are you getting at, Hermione?" Parvati waved at Harry absently. "No, I really want to hear this."

"I'm saying, you should leave me and Harry alone, stop moaning incessantly over how cute you think Ron is and ask him out. If you wait for him, it may never happen!" Hermione looked around in alarm when she realized her voice had risen loud enough to be heard at the next table.

"I resent that," Ron said quietly at the same time as Parvati asked, "Like you did with Harry? I'm not going to throw myself at anyone," she added softly.

Neville shrugged. "It's not as if she doesn't have a point."

Lavender gasped. "Who's side are you on?"

"I'm on the side of the boyfriend who hangs out with _two_ girls most of the time," he responded. He picked up his juice glass and tipped it towards Hermione before taking a sip. "You may have just saved them another year or two of asking me why he hasn't done it yet." Neville turned to Ron. "Sorry, mate. You should've asked her out after the Yule Ball. They've been trying to get me to tell you that for months." He offered a small smile. "I wanted to stay out of it."

Parvati sighed and grabbed her book bag, leaving the table without another word, avoiding everyone's eyes as she left. With one glance back at Neville, Lavender picked up her bag and followed her friend.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Harry said. "Come on, Hermione. Professor McGonagall is waiting for us."

Grinning, she finished her pumpkin juice and stood from the table, waving to Neville and Ron before she and Harry walked away.

* * *

Squinting at him to get it exactly right, Tonks changed her eye color to match the exact shade of Harry's eyes. As a final touch, she shortened her hair in the back, trying to get it to copy the way Harry's locks stood up from the crown of his head.

"That is amazing," Hermione said. She came closer and walked a circle around the two of them, marveling at how closely the Auror now resembled her boyfriend. "You've forgotten one thing."

"What's that?" she asked.

"My scar." Harry lifted the hair from his forehead and watched with a small sense of unease as it was duplicated on the face before his.

"Oh, I was thinking she shouldn't have…um…" With a light blush, Hermione pointed at the woman's chest. "I think people might notice."

Tonks smiled and then finished her physical transformation, turning so that she and Harry stood side by side in front of the Headmistress. "What do you think?"

McGonagall stood with one hand at her throat, her expression thoughtful. "_This_ is much better than the half dozen or so plans I'd come up with last night. And it'll keep Harry out of harm's way."

"I don't know why I didn't think of it," Harry said.

"Perhaps because you were too set on confronting him yourself," Hermione said. "I don't know what we'll do about your voice, though. Harry's isn't that deep, but maybe it'll be close."

"I do not sound like a girl," he said.

"Of course you don't." Hermione smiled and looked at Tonks once again from head to toe. If she had just walked into the office, she wouldn't have been able to tell them apart, except for their clothes. It was certainly one of the stranger things she'd experienced in the past several days. One of the few things topping it was being in a hospital room with her boyfriend times two.

"I think I can mimic his voice a little bit," Tonks said. "Say something Harry."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Tell me a story about what you did last night."

"I was…" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and Harry looked at her. He could tell from her expression, she knew the two of them hadn't stayed in Gryffindor Tower the night before. Harry reminded himself to take the Marauder's Map from her office later. "I spent a little time doing homework last night. I played Wizard Chess with Ron for a bit. I listened to Neville tell a funny story about Lavender."

Waving at him to stop, Tonks repeated his last sentence, her voice now a close mimic to his. "Is that it?"

"Wow," he and Hermione said at the same time. "That's good," she added. "When can you do it?"

Tonks changed to make herself more comfortable, complete with short and spiky pink hair and bright blue eyes. "I'm ready whenever you all are."

"We're just waiting to hear from the Minister, then." McGonagall turned to Harry. "He wants to talk to you. He also wants to be there when I speak with your mother about what is happening. I don't know when that will be possible," she said. "With his schedule, we won't be able to wait on him before we move on with the plan. Lily may just have to be informed after the fact."

"So, you'll need me to get Professor Snape to implicate himself and Aunt Bella?" Tonks asked.

"I'd forgotten she's your aunt," Harry said. "Is that going to make this hard for you?"

She shook her head. "We're not really a close-knit family, if you take my meaning. My mother never trusted her after she joined the Death Eaters not too long after leaving Hogwarts. She and Aunt Cissa are not overly fond of my mother's choices either," Tonks said with a small frown. "If they're really doing what you say they are, I'm sure Sirius will say he always knew they were capable of it. He hasn't liked her since the first time he met her."

"You've talked to Sirius?" Harry asked. "How is he? I haven't seen him ages."

She raised both eyebrows in surprise. "I wouldn't think you had. I don't think your mother's had him to the house since…well, since right after your father died. He said it was hard for her being around someone who was grieving as much as she was." She touched a hand to his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't imagine what it must've been like to lose him, and at such a young age."

He nodded, his thoughts lingering on the man he'd never get to meet. They hadn't told Tonks the entire story, figuring it would be easier to tell her just enough so she could be able to complete her mission. They'd agreed it would be difficult enough convincing the courts even the Death Eater conspiracy was true. Better to not let anyone else find out the whole truth. "Would it be possible for my mum to go stay with him?" he asked Professor McGonagall. Harry turned to Tonks. "You don't think he'd mind, do you? I mean, since it's been so long."

"No." She smiled. "He'd do anything to help your mother. And you. He loved your father like a brother. If we're not moving forward right now, I have time to visit Sirius to let him know what's going on."

"Why can't you just send him a message?" Hermione asked.

"Because someone will have to help revive him when he passes out from the shock of hearing this story," she said with a small smile. "Actually, I have to make sure that house is presentable, at least by my standards. Even with a house-elf, he manages to let it look like it hasn't been cleaned in ages. I can't let you send your mother and sister into that. Any objections?" she asked the Headmistress.

McGonagall shook her head. "I just wanted to add we're also looking for information on Lucius Malfoy and any others Professor Snape may mention. It would probably be wiser if you were to imitate your aunt instead. He's bound to open up to her more. Perhaps even give details of the plan of which we're unaware," McGonagall added.

"I could do that," she said. Her short hair grew long and turned thick and black as she spoke. Within a minute, Tonks became the living embodiment of the oldest Black sister, her body a few inches taller and her thin lips set in a line as she looked at the three in the office. "Scary enough?" she said in Bella's voice.

Harry took a quick step back, rubbing the goose bumps on one arm. "Creepy," he said. "You'll have to warn me before you do that again."

She grinned and changed her features back. "I can try talking to him as Aunt Bella tonight and then confronting him as Harry tomorrow. That way, we can be sure to get as much information as possible before I arrest him. Besides, I think I'll be able to get reinforcements tomorrow, in case there's any problems. There was some sort of disturbance in the mountains north of here and most of the available Aurors were called in to help. Depending on how it goes, they should all be back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow seems like a really long time from now," Harry said. "I wish this could be over with already."

"You're not the only one, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall turned to glance at the Minister's portrait behind her desk. "Why don't you and Miss Granger find something to occupy your time while I speak with the Auror outside?"

Both of them nodded and sat at the table as the Headmistress led Tonks outside of her office. The minute the door closed behind them, Hermione asked, "Do you think this will work?"

"I don't know," Harry said. He patted his pocket and Hermione heard a small tinkle of glass. "There's always Plan B."

Hermione said nothing, remembering her promise to not argue with him in spite of how she felt about his plans for his stepfather. She was also conscious of the portraits of former Headmasters pretending to be asleep around the room. She would keep her thoughts on the subjects of poisoning and curses to herself. "I'm bored with homework," she said instead.

"Are you feeling all right?"

There was such an expression of surprise on Harry's face, Hermione laughed. "I'm fine. We have spent too much time in here lately, though. I want to do something besides shove my nose into a book for research or write a paper."

Harry shook his head. "Does _Specialis__ Revelio_ work on people using Polyjuice Potion?"

She laughed again. "I'm not a stranger. I do get tired of work sometimes."

Harry grinned. "You really won't fool anyone saying that. Imposter."

Hermione leaned her elbow against the table, planting her chin in her hand as she got comfortable. "Tell me a story about what things were like for you before. What did you do besides dodge Death Eaters and get detention? I know you played Quidditch, but…" She closed her eyes briefly. "Was there someone special you hung out with? Other than me and Ron?"

He smiled at her sudden bashfulness, the exact opposite of the way she'd been behaving the night before. "I didn't really socialize with girls much, to be honest, outside of you, Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. With those two, it was mostly because of the DA." Harry paused, wondering how to phrase his next statement. "Fifth year, I did spend a little time with Cho."

Hermione raised both eyebrows in surprise. "You were dating Cho Chang?"

"Yeah, for a few months."

"I guess a lot about that time was different. I thought she and Cedric were made for each other."

Harry shrugged. "She dated him until he was killed during the Tournament."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, closed it, thought about her comment again and then said, "So…she was dating him and you were with him when he died and then a few months later she was dating you?"

Harry tried not to smile at Hermione's question. "She sort of knew I liked her before, but Cedric asked her out first. I suppose she started to like me later. Don't ask me to explain how Cho's mind works."

Hermione shook her head. "No, you don't have to. I just wonder how that worked out for you."

He paused briefly. "Not well, actually. We broke up."

Hermione laughed. "I figured as much. Why?"

Harry hesitated. The situation with Marietta and the DA wasn't where their problems had started. "Part of the reason was…because she thought I had feelings for you. I had no idea she might think that until you pointed it out to me and by that point it was too late." When Hermione gave him a knowing smile, he added, "But the whole time, I don't think she was really over Cedric."

Hermione shrugged. "In some strange way, you may have made her feel closer to him."

"Maybe," Harry said. He'd never been comfortable with the idea of being Cho's second choice because she couldn't have her first. Harry thought briefly of how Hermione had behaved in the hospital the day before and his own unexpected reaction. He didn't know any guy who could accept being the default boyfriend.

"Odd," Hermione said. "Now they're engaged."

Harry was surprised by the news. But not envious as he might have been long before. He was happy for the two of them. He told Hermione that.

"Good," she responded. "I don't have to worry about you staring at her like you did at the Prefect meeting last week."

"Did I?"

"Almost half the time," she confirmed. "Why did she think you had feelings for me?"

As Harry told Hermione the story of what had happened Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade—from having coffee at that awful café to accidentally making Cho cry before she left—Hermione went from listening with a serious expression, to smiling as her face turned a light shade of pink to all-out laughing as Harry ended with how she'd finally told him what Cho must've thought.

"It's not _that_ funny," he said.

"I'm sorry," she responded between giggles, "but it is a little. It's kind of cute how clueless you were about girls. It's too bad you couldn't talk to her about Cedric, but you really should've told her I was forcing you to come see me and you think I'm unattractive. Anything would've been better than letting Cho think you'd made a second date and I said it was _okay for her to come along_," Hermione said.

"I don't like lying to people I care about," he said. "I would never badmouth you to make another girl feel good. I never thought you were unattractive, even when we first met."

Hearing the sincerity in his tone, she looked up. The expression on Harry's face as he looked at her made Hermione wish suddenly that she hadn't let him off the hook the night before. If only he could see what she saw in that moment, the few seconds he smiled at her with his guard down, he would know why she kept fighting so hard for the two of them.

"So…you always found me attractive?"

"Uh…no." Harry whipped his head around, suddenly wishing the Headmistress would come in and interrupt the conversation. "I…we…well, you were kind of bossy." He smiled. "Still are. It drove me and Ron crazy for ages. And your hair was a right mess. And you were—we were both kind of awkward."

She sat up straight and motioned towards herself with her hand. "You can say it, Harry. My front teeth were horrible."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"But you were thinking it," she said. "Thank goodness I convinced my parents it would be okay to shrink them third year or I'd still be that way. I don't know why they didn't want me to use magic on myself."

"Maybe they thought you'd use it to solve all of your problems," he said.

"That's ridiculous. If anything, I work harder in spite of it," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. "Personally, I think you work too hard. I'm still in shock that you're not in the mood to do anything now."

"I'm in the mood for something," she whispered. "Just not homework."

Before he could respond to her smile and the meaning behind it, the door behind Harry opened and the Minister of Magic stepped into the office.


	40. Certainty

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger." The Minister nodded at the two students and stepped farther into the room. As he looked around, Harry noticed that Dumbledore appeared agitated, wringing his hands in front of his bright blue robes, his eyes not quite meeting either Harry's or Hermione's directly. When he got close to the table where they sat, he said, "The Headmistress is waiting outside, Miss Granger. Please join her."

"What about Harry?" she asked immediately. She clasped his hand.

Harry was surprised by the quick flash of something he couldn't place—anger? frustration?—that appeared briefly in the older wizard's normally calm eyes. He dismissed it when the Minister responded in a calm voice.

"I need to speak with him alone."

"But—" Hermione turned to Harry, a question in her eyes. He nodded. He would end up telling her everything later, anyway. Wordlessly, she squeezed his hand and walked to the winding staircase. She shot a worried glance over her shoulder just as the Minister waved the door closed behind her.

Dumbledore took a seat across from Harry and stared at him over the tops of his spectacles, his long gaze at once searching and intimidating, and again, holding something Harry couldn't quite place. "I sometimes wonder," he began, "if any of us truly understands our place in this world."

Harry leaned back in his chair. That was the last thing he'd expected the Minister to say. He'd thought he'd be hearing something about discoveries made from his memories or his recovery at the hospital. The way Dumbledore had begun, Harry didn't understand what was so important Hermione couldn't hear it as well. He knew better than to say as much.

"I've spent a great deal of time thinking about the stories you've told me of your past, the memories you've given me, and the current situation you find yourself in," Dumbledore said. "I confess, I have had very little sleep the past couple of weeks. In all the years I have spent gathering information on Voldemort, I kept two things in mind," he said. "The first, that he wished to discover a way to make himself immortal. The second, that there would be one person who could stop him." Dumbledore raised his eyes to look at Harry. "You have changed both those assessments for me."

The older wizard shuffled around in his seat, his eyes not quite meeting Harry's again. "In the past you experienced, there was a great deal I did not tell you when you attended Hogwarts. I can only assume that was for your protection. As you were in danger several times, I believe it's fair to say I failed in that respect." The light blue eyes lowered to the table. "For that, I am sorry."

Harry watched as the Minister fidgeted. His obvious anxiety was uncharacteristic to say the least. Whatever else he had to say, Harry was sure it was the worst kind of news, in spite of the vague preamble. He still had very little idea where Dumbledore was going with this talk. With Voldemort involved somehow, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out.

"You can't blame yourself for something another version of you did," Harry said. He certainly didn't want to assign blame for the actions that led to Snape sending someone after him weeks before. There was no way the other Harry could've known what would happen. Just as there was no way he could've known leaving that letter behind would've led to everything that had taken place. The good and the bad.

"No, but the intent is the same," Dumbledore said. "I had pledged myself to protect your life just as I pledged to protect Neville Longbottom in this life."

"But why?" Harry asked. "If Voldemort was more or less destroyed by attacking either of us as a baby, why the need for protection? He hasn't really done anything here so far. Now that you know who his supporters are, you can prevent them from helping him come back," Harry suggested. "You could even go back in time and—" Harry stopped speaking as the Minister's eyes narrowed at his suggestion.

"There is a reason why a simple solution will not work in this situation." The Minister steepled his hands in front of his chest and leaned back into his chair. "Years ago, well before you were born, a prophecy was made concerning Voldemort."

"The prophecy I heard at the Department of Mysteries?"

Dumbledore nodded. "You only heard a small portion of it, I believe. The whole of it is this: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not." At this, the Minister sighed, his eyebrows knitted together. "And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives," he finished in a soft voice.

Harry sat for a few moments, letting the full weight of the prophecy sink into his mind. "So, he's going to kill me?" The words were surprisingly easy to say. He'd considered the possibility before, but had never thought anyone would say it to him directly.

"Or you or Neville will have to destroy him," Dumbledore responded. "Your time travel has made this situation more complicated than it already was. In this life, Neville has the potential to destroy Voldemort. I do not know if your connection to him weakens or strengthens Neville's chances."

"Wait," Harry began. He lifted a hand from the table as it began to shake unsteadily and pulled it into his lap. "I could've made it impossible for Neville to win?"

"I cannot say that for certain," Dumbledore responded. "But there are many things we cannot explain. For instance, why the Time-Turner took you to the night before your parents would be murdered. Whether you were truly meant to find a cure to Professor Snape's curse or if fate would simply not allow you to die at someone else's hands."

Harry stared at the Minister for a long moment, mentally going over everything that had happened the past several days. "None of this has been in my control?"

"I cannot say," Dumbledore responded. "I came here to give you an explanation I should've given you at least by the end of your fourth year at Hogwarts. Voldemort believed then he had found a way to circumvent the protection your mother's blood gives you, and it did allow for him to connect with you in ways that he could not before. There is so much unknown here and I cannot predict what will happen to either you or Neville if you have to confront Voldemort."

"But he can't come back," Harry interrupted. "Everything I've given you should see to that."

Dumbledore nodded. "I wish I could tell you that what you've done will make all that you've been through before a distant memory, but fate does not work that way. You were born into a world where your ultimate purpose would be to take down Voldemort or die in the attempt. It sounds harsh," he said, reaching across the table to touch Harry's hand, "but there is no way to make this easier for you. The absolute truth is what you need to face this future. As far as I can tell, you are still destined to confront him in some capacity before he is ultimately gone. He may not be coming back now, but he has many supporters, unknown even through your memories.

"It is unfortunate to say, but the only way this can truly end for you is if Voldemort comes back to a human form and you are able to kill him. Because of the prophecy, he will never stop attempting to kill Neville. If he were to ever learn of your connection to him, you would become a target as well."

"But why?" Harry asked. He pulled his hand from beneath Dumbledore's and squeezed it into a tight fist. "I don't understand why he has to come after either of us. If he never attempts to kill Neville, I'm sure Neville will never try to kill him. He's not going to go after someone he has no possibility of beating. Neither will I."

"Neither of you will have a choice in that matter," Dumbledore said. "The prophecy only gave one of you the potential to kill him." He raised a hand to point at Harry's scar. "Voldemort himself gave you the means."

"So, my attack—?"

"He had found out about the prophecy through one of his followers and attempted to kill you before you could grow strong enough to hurt him. In the attempt, he inadvertently gave you the means with which you could destroy him, transferring some of his own powers. If I'm not mistaken, both of you still retain those powers. You also have protection provided by your parents' sacrifice. He also gave you the motivation to kill him rather than merely defend yourself if there were ever a confrontation."

"Because he killed my parents," Harry supplied. "And Neville's."

Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort did not hear the entire prophecy when he chose to attack you, though it strikes me as funny that his reaction was the same in your past and mine. If he had known attacking you would allow either of you to hurt him, he might have had someone else do it or left you alone altogether. At the time, the prophecy only predicted one possible version of the future. By initiating an attack, by marking you as his equal, he ensured that it will be fulfilled at some point."

"But it doesn't have to be," Harry said. "What if Neville and I do nothing? What if we don't go after him or he never comes back?"

"That is not an option," Dumbledore said. "Fate has decided what will happen to you, both of you, where Voldemort is concerned. It is still a bit muddled, but it is clear from recent events that your life is still very much tied to Voldemort. Even if you do not go after him, he will try to kill Neville, and possibly you as well. I have no doubt he has heard something of your attack the other day and may grow suspicious. If Professor Snape has told him anything of your scar, it may only be a matter of time."

All at once, Harry regretted his repeated wishes that the former Headmaster be honest with him about everything he could be facing. Visions of nearly dying at Voldemort's hands in the graveyard months before flashed through his mind and he had to take a deep breath and lower his head to the table, resigning himself to the idea that he might never escape what was waiting for him. A certain death at the hands of someone he couldn't possibly kill.

Slowly, Harry raised his head and cleared his throat. "What can we tell Neville?"

"Nothing as of right now," Dumbledore said. "There is no immediate danger for him and there may not be for some time. I would like to wait until Professors Snape and Lestrange are in Azkaban before telling Neville all he needs to know."

"If you're hoping to not scare him," Harry began. "It won't matter when you do it. This would scare anyone."

"I am hoping to assure him that there is plenty of time to prepare himself for this, possibly many years of his life."

Harry caught the older wizard's gaze. "Do you really believe that? That this will drag on for many years?"

Dumbledore held Harry's stare for a few seconds before lowering his eyes and coughing softly into one fist. "I wanted to address your actions towards your stepfather."

"Don't refer to that man as anything with the word 'father' attached to it," Harry said immediately.

"You may think it's the best form of revenge," Dumbledore continued as if Harry hadn't spoken, "but killing him will not bring your own father back."

"And what will?" Harry asked.

"Nothing can bring back the dead, Harry." Dumbledore pulled his lips back into a small, unhappy smile. "Getting your revenge by poisoning or cursing him—"

"What makes you think I might do that?"

"You are not as difficult to read as you might believe," Dumbledore responded. "I have no intention of punishing you for what you did with the Time-Turner or any of the questionable actions you have taken since, but a blatant act of premeditated murder cannot go ignored, Harry. This is your only warning. Think about how your mother will feel—"

"I would think she'd be grateful I killed the man who took my father away from her!" Harry stood from the table and walked across the office, turning his back on Dumbledore as he continued speaking.

"She loves him and knows nothing of what he's done yet. It will be devastating enough for Lily when she finds out the truth about the man she married. My concern is that she not find out her son is capable of murder in the next moment."

Harry turned to face Dumbledore, his eyes narrowed. "Won't she have to learn that at some point if I am to survive whatever Voldemort has in store for me? Unless you intend for me to just let him kill me."

Dumbledore briefly looked startled by the accusation but straightened his face as he addressed the angry teenager. "If there is a way, I would like to prevent you from having to make that choice at all."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Several of the portraits began chattering as Harry's voice rang throughout the room. "You just told me I can't escape whatever fate is waiting for me and now you're saying you're going to try to find a way." Harry threw up his hands and turned away. "It doesn't matter what I've done to my past," he said. "You still talk in riddles without offering a real solution," he said bitterly.

"I have my own solution," Harry said, turning back. He held up a hand to ward off interruption. "It's not murder, if that's what you want to call it. Snape is smart. If he or any other Death Eaters find a way to come after my family, I'm going to defend them any way I have to. I don't care about consequences. All I care about is keeping everyone safe. If you want to throw me in Azkaban for that, fine, I'll take it."

"What I want," Dumbledore said softly, "is for you to walk away from this with a real chance at life. The one you left was full of things a child should not have had to deal with and the one you've taken over is taking a turn in that direction. At your age, you shouldn't have to—"  
"I am not a child anymore," Harry interrupted. "I've been through things a lot of adults couldn't handle and I'm fine."

"Are you?"

Silently, Harry sat across from the Minister again, his thoughts racing. Was he fine? Had he ever been fine? Did he even know what that felt like? "I can deal with everything," Harry said finally. "I can take care of my mother, my sister and myself and if I have to, I can survive Voldemort again."

"You may not have to," Dumbledore said again.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Harry shook his head. "Giving someone false hope is just as bad as—"

"It's not false hope," Dumbledore began, "but a chance at undoing some of the events that happened as a result of your time travel. After consulting with someone in the Department of Mysteries, I have found out it is possible to…retrace your steps."

"Go back in time again?"

"More," he said. "It is possible for me to send you back in time to the night you left your parents the note and change that moment, then send you back to the night in the Department of Mysteries. Obviously, you would have to return to another room so you wouldn't land directly in the middle of a battle. Effectively, it would be as if you had never left. You could resume the life you were living, knowing more now about Voldemort and his followers and the prophecy than you did before."

"But Voldemort is gathering strength there." Harry shook his head. "He's got at least a dozen people helping him, not to mention a _body_. He—I—my chances of fighting him aren't any stronger there than they are here, now."

"Oh, but they are," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort believes your blood gives him your mother's protection, but I believe it only gives him a weakness where you are concerned. That, in addition to the connection between your wands and the difficulty he has had in harming you before leads me to believe he has more vulnerability in relation to you than even he may suspect."

"Maybe. Possibly," Harry said. "It's possible he could be vulnerable to me if he and I were to get into a life or death battle, as long as I keep a good grip on my wand and hope my mother's protection can outlast a wizard at least ten times stronger than me. You realize that sounds like a death sentence? Why would I want to go back to that? At least here I'd have Neville to help me fight."

"In spite of the stark nature of the situation, your chances of beating Voldemort could be about the same in any instance, possibly less so here. As I said before, I do not know how his connection with Neville and yourself affects either of your chances in a fight with him. In the past you left, at least there is a certainty about what will happen."

_My death is the certainty_, Harry thought.

"What about the prophecy?" Harry asked. "There's a label on it, right? Shouldn't it indicate whichever of us is ultimately going to fight him? I mean, that should tell us right now if Neville and I can defeat him together. I don't want to have to go back there to fight him. I don't want to have to lose…everything I've found here." Though his mother and sister were the first people to inspire that last thought, he couldn't shake away the knowledge that he had no wish to lose what he was beginning to find with Hermione, especially knowing he would never have it if he returned to the life he left—not without hurting his best friend in the process.

"As far as I know, only Neville's name is still connected to the prophecy, but I will check if it will help you come to a decision."

"Do I have to make a decision?" Harry asked. His eyes drifted down to the table. "What if I want to see how things work out here for a while and then…change my mind later?"

"What if you'd like to give this life a trial run?" the Minister asked. "Harry, I don't want to put any more pressure on you, but you don't really have the option of living two lives, returning one if it doesn't work out in a way you'd like. You'll know soon enough if this life is right for you or if you should return to the one from which you came. After your—after Professor Snape has been prosecuted and attempts are made to find Voldemort, I expect to hear from you if you wish to go back. Any time after that and you'll just have to live with your choices.

"It would be highly unusual if everyone were given a chance to go back and alter their past. You are being given just this one chance. I suggest you think it over carefully and make your decision wisely. Whatever you choose to do, whether to stay here and share Neville's fate or go back and face your own alone, the fight will be the same."

Without another word, Dumbledore rose from his chair and left the Headmistress's office, leaving Harry with his jumbled, warring thoughts.


	41. Sense of Urgency

It was late in the afternoon when Harry found himself alone with Hermione, still going over everything the Minister had told him. Stay or go back? Fight here or there? Run from one past into an uncertain future? The thoughts had blurred through his suddenly overwhelmed mind when, thankfully, Hermione had distracted him by asking about his past. He'd consented to telling her about a few of the less traumatic moments of the life he'd left and answered each question as they blessedly led his mind away from a choice he didn't want to have to make. One he felt was impossible to make.

Hermione sighed and tugged at Harry's hand. "I'm still bored. I wish they would tell us more about what's going on." At Harry's silence, she added, "I'm glad we get to spend this time alone together. Can you show me a memory?" Hermione smiled as a thought came to her. "Show me your Valentine's date with Cho. I could use the laugh."

Harry started as his full attention returned to her. "No! It was awful enough the first time. I refuse to see that again."

"Okay, why don't you tell me what it was like around the time you rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked. "That must've been something."

He nodded. "It was mad," Harry said. "Lockhart was no help at all and I wasn't sure any of us would make it back alive."

"I can believe that. I want to hear more about it, though," Hermione said. "I can't imagine what that whole time was like. It's just so weird to think of myself as being best friends with Ron Weasley."

"We were a trio," Harry said. "You two didn't spend too much time alone, to tell the truth. You managed to argue a lot when I wasn't there. Or even when I was. Mostly because you were so bossy," he remarked, grinning as she pulled her wand on him in mock anger. "Ron would get us both to laugh, mostly me, you kind of kept us on track with our school work and helped figure out all the weird things that were happening around the school and I…"

"Kept getting us all detention?" she suggested.

He offered her a faint smile. "It wasn't always my fault. I guess you could say I balanced out the two kinds of crazy between you and Ron," he said wistfully. "I helped Ron act a little more serious every once in a while and I guess I helped you loosen up a bit."

She rolled her eyes. "I couldn't have been that uptight, Harry."

Harry shrugged, not sure what to tell her about the bookworm and stickler for the rules he'd known, the person whom he suspected she'd been in both lives. "Whatever you say."

A loosely formed fist connected softly with his shoulder. "I'm just conservative," Hermione said. "There's nothing wrong with that. On the other hand, it's mostly because you've corrupted me that I do things other people would think are out of character."

Harry put his arms around her and squeezed gently. Immediately, she leaned her head back to his shoulder and snuggled against his chest. "Whatever you say," he repeated in a soft voice.

"See, like right now? What I really want to do…I can't right now," Hermione whispered back. "You are a bad influence." She turned her head and planted a soft kiss on his neck. "You always have been."

"Your mind takes you to dirty places. Not me."

"Not yet." She grinned. "You know, here, second year was actually when I realized I wanted to be more than friends. It took a long time before I got up the nerve to do anything about it."

"I wish I'd been here to see that," Harry said.

"It wasn't easy. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. Speaking of that, I keep thinking about all of the memories you've shown me," Hermione said. "I still have trouble believing all of it. The stuff about me and Ron, I mean. Don't get me wrong, he seems nice enough, but are you sure I liked Ron?" Harry nodded. "But, in every memory you showed me, I was always helping to protect you or trying to give you advice about something or hugging or touching you in some way."

Harry nodded, thinking of the sometimes smothering nature of his friendship with Hermione. "Yeah, you were protective of me because we were really good friends. With all of the things that kept happening, you both worried a lot. Besides, I didn't show you everything."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes, but sometimes I barely looked at Ron when you were around. It was really awkward."

"Yeah." Harry was silent for a couple of beats. "Because you already liked each other at that point."

"You're sure it's not because he spent the first few weeks at school teasing me and talking about me behind my back and we only became friends because it was your idea to save me from the troll and we argued a lot of the time when you weren't around so by a certain point we didn't always know how to be civil to each other? It wasn't _that_, but because of buried romantic feelings?"

Harry hesitated. "Uh…yeah. I'm sure you liked each other."

Hermione looked at her boyfriend, smiling as a small flush colored his face. "Sure, Harry. Whatever you say." She giggled more. "Looking at those memories, it's obvious who I had feelings for, even if neither of you could tell. There are some things even time couldn't change." She leaned closer to him and rested a hand on his knee.

"So." Harry inclined his head slightly as Hermione paused. "What are you going to do to entertain me?"

A reluctant smile touched his lips. In spite of everything that was going on, he could tell what she was thinking as easily as if she'd whispered the words in his ear. Remembering the marks on his neck, and how they'd gotten there, he knew how dangerous—and tempting—that line of thinking was. Before he could make a suggestion, he realized she was studying him with a worried expression.

Hermione stared at him in silence for several long moments, her light brown eyes searching his. "What's wrong?" Before he opened his mouth, she said, "I didn't want to bring it up, but I know something's on your mind. Whatever the Minister said is obviously bothering you. You've been too quiet."

"Nothing is bothering me," Harry responded, his voice shaking slightly.

"I thought you said you never wanted to lie to someone you care about," she countered.

"I—" Harry stopped speaking and looked away from her knowing stare. He couldn't lie to her now if he wanted to. "He told me some things about Voldemort and Snape and…it just gave me a lot to think about."

"Anything you want to share with me? Maybe I can help," she suggested.

"No, there's nothing you can do," Harry said. He shrugged. "Maybe there is one thing."

Hermione grinned and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Anything."

"Tell me why you love me."

"What?" Her half-lidded eyes widened into a stare. "What do you mean? You already know that," she said quickly. "I've always loved you."

"No." Harry closed his eyes and took a slow, steadying breath. "Why do you love…_me_?" At her quick intake of breath, he knew she understood he was again comparing himself to the Harry she'd known for years, and he hoped this time she would give him more than a rote answer.

"I don't know why you keep questioning this," she said softly. "I've tried explaining it—"

"We're not the same person, Hermione. You know that."

She let out a small, frustrated growl. "In a few months, it won't make a difference. You'll be here and all this other stuff won't matter."

"But it will," he said. "I'll be here, but without years of memories of us together." He opened his eyes and caught her sudden sad expression. "You can't tell me you're okay with being someone who has no memory of our relationship."

"I have memory enough for both of us," Hermione said.

"It sounds romantic when you say it that way, but let's be realistic about it. You gave your heart to someone who nearly died. I saw how you reacted in the hospital. You're trying to tell me you won't feel at least some pain, some loss in a few months when it's just me you're left with? It'll be like starting over."

"You make it sound like you're some kind of second-rate prize I'll be stuck with."

Harry watched the play of emotions across her face, deciding it was best not to say anything as she debated her answer to his question.

"I love you because you're brave and caring and supportive and you're the best friend I could ever wish for," she said, emotion making her voice heavy. "I've been trying to tell you this whole time, but you can't seem to believe it. I don't know how to make you believe it. I can't explain it any other way. I know you're not exactly the same, but everything that matters, everything that's here—" she put a hand over his heart "—is all I need. It's different lately because I know you can not only protect the people you care about with everything you have, but you can love me under any circumstances. I'm not _exactly_ the same girl you knew and you love me still. I love you all the more for that."

"Hermione, that doesn't mean—" She cut him off with a brush of her fingers across his lips.

"I know you think I'm just saying this because I don't want you to break up with me, but it's more than that." Hermione looked away from him as her first tears made their way down her face. "When you first…came here, I was the only one you could trust. I feel the same way," she continued in a soft voice. Her eyes met his again. "You are the only person I can truly trust. With all of the craziness of the last couple of weeks, you're the only constant I can hold onto. I can't lose you.

"I know you're tired of me pushing you to feel something you haven't gotten used to yet, but I do it because _I know_ it's right for me, for both of us. I reacted that way at the hospital because I knew if the cure didn't work, it would break my heart." Her hand slid to his cheek and a trembling smile preempted her next words. "I can't stand the thought of losing us. But, it's not just about that." She paused and took a deep breath. "If I had to choose, I choose _you_."

With a barely perceptible sigh, Harry pulled her into his arms and covered her wet face with kisses, hands shaking from the emotion he felt when she kissed him back with desperate urgency. Long minutes later, Hermione pulled away and looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

* * *

"Severus."

When Bellatrix entered his office, Severus Snape had two immediate thoughts as he slammed the book he'd been reading closed. The first, that he would gladly kill her if she was coming to whine more of her paranoid thoughts into his ear. The second, that he didn't wish to experience the Dark Lord's reaction if one of his most devoted followers suddenly met with an unfortunate end. Though, Snape thought with a small hint of glee, she _was_ close to outliving her usefulness in Lord Voldemort's eyes. And _he_ would be the one to help her realize that fact when the time finally came.

The thought bringing a faint smile to his lips, he leaned back in his chair and waved at one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. "Something I can do for you Bella?"

"Naturally." She stepped forward and sat in one of the proffered chairs. "Be honest with me. Are we going to do anything about Harry or are you content with letting the little brat get away with his interference?"

His eyes narrowed. "Of course not. You know I can't do anything noticeable to him…for now. I don't see why I have to keep explaining myself to you."

"Because I don't understand how our master could employ someone so weak to work on his behalf," Bellatrix said in clipped tones, her heavy voice emphasizing the insult as she glared at the wizard behind the desk.

"A ridiculous a statement as you've ever uttered," Snape responded. "I have no illusions as to how the Dark Lord sees all of us. He values people he can use and control, of which you must count yourself."

"I don't count myself as being used. It is my privilege to serve Lord Voldemort."

Taking in her sudden simpering expression, Snape refrained from asking her what else was her privilege relating to the Dark Lord. He had the sneaking suspicion it was best left unsaid.

"Be that as it may, I don't see why you cannot content yourself with waiting for the plans to unfold in their own time. Impatience has nearly been your downfall on more than one occasion."

"My downfall?" she asked, incredulity making her voice rise. "I've been waiting years for the opportunity to do something real again and the chance to fulfill our plans may hang on the meddling of a child," Bellatrix said. "I had hoped you had come up with something that couldn't be so easily derailed." She looked down, appearing to study her long nails as she paused. "I don't suppose you've been brave enough to tell the Dark Lord why we aren't able to move forward."

"He is aware of our…difficulties," Snape said. "I'll be seeing him tomorrow to give an update on our progress."

She raised one eyebrow in surprise. "Right under Lily's nose? She is still coming tomorrow?"

"Late tonight, if she can make it," he responded. "I wouldn't worry about her finding out anything. She'll be so distracted showing little James her disappointment over his most recent mishaps that I'll be able to slip away for a little while unnoticed, assuming Minerva lets him out of her personal jail long enough. Potter's idiocy has proven convenient when it comes to some things. Minerva seems too distracted with him to notice what's going on."

"What do you mean?"

Snape frowned and motioned to a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ sitting on the edge of his desk. "Didn't you bother checking that? The Ministry's finally noticed a few of the prisoners are missing from Azkaban. With his carelessness, I still think it's only a matter of time before they figure out Lucius is the one who arranged for them to escape, though how he managed it—"

"Yes, fine," Bellatrix said impatiently. Her full lips pursed. "When are we going to do it?"

"Do what exactly?" he asked, a deep frown creasing his features.

She sighed. "What have we been working towards for months?"

His brow cleared. "_We_ may have only been working for months, but I've been attempting to restore the Dark Lord to his rightful place for years. You know the earliest we can begin is the end of next week. Though I'll have to check the Key again to see if it would be possible to begin the potion a few days early and only complete it during the full moon. Forget what I said about Lily's brat being convenient in his moments. I'd gladly trade his life for the Dark Lord's human form even if it brought the full force of the Ministry down on us."

At Bella's surprised expression, Snape continued. "Don't give me that look, Bella. I have my moments of impatience, just as you. I'm tired of biding my time. If there was some way of getting to the boy without it being traced back to me—"

"Isn't there?"

The quietly spoken question gave him pause. He looked over to find a knowing stare and small, sinister smile aimed at him.

"We've been over this. The potion is a last resort. Once the final steps are taken, I'm sure Lucius can make sure Potter gets what he deserves." He tapped the fingers of one pale hand on the surface of his desk. "Then again, once the Dark Lord has returned, I'll have no more concerns about getting caught. I can take care of Potter myself." He smiled as he thought of it, the first of genuine pleasure since Bellatrix had entered his office.

"Perhaps you'll give me a chance to give my regards to your stepson before you do the honors."

"I had thought you'd be too busy making plans for Longbottom to even think of Potter," Snape said. "My oh my. The Dark Lord has not yet risen and already your true nature is coming out." He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I had assumed your threats to Minerva the other day were merely boredom, but now I see you're just eager to exercise those skills that earned you the Dark Lord's favor. Be careful not to let your eagerness get the better of your judgment."

"I _am_ bored with this waiting," Bella remarked. "I'm leaving for a short trip tonight to…entertain myself."

Snape's brows raised in surprised. "A vacation at the beginning of term?"

A half-smile greeted this statement. "Do I detect concern for my neglected students? I'm sure they will get along fine without me for a couple of days. It'll be easier to keep up this tiresome guise if I have a little playtime to keep myself occupied. Hopefully, I'll come back without the urge to hex these little brats every few minutes."

Snape chuckled. "You're slightly more interesting when you're on edge, but if you must go, do enjoy yourself discreetly. Will you arrange for a dragon's blood delivery while you're gone? If it's convenient, of course," Snape added.

She inclined her head minutely. "Anything else?"

"I'll have the rest of the list before the weekend is through," Snape said. "Potter will not be able to evade me for much longer. After I consult with the Dark Lord, I will not hesitate to take action."

Bellatrix stood from her chair and nodded in his direction. "That's exactly what I needed to hear." As she headed towards the door, she said over her shoulder, "I expect to hear more good things when I return."

Snape began nodding before she'd made it to the door, stopping when Bellatrix tripped over the edge of a rug. "Are you all right?"

She turned briefly. "Your concern touches me. Give Potter my best this weekend." With that, Bellatrix opened the door and slipped through quickly, leaving the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sitting behind his desk, an uneasy feeling picking at the edge of his consciousness.

* * *

Harry pushed away from Hermione and leaned with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers combing through his hair. "I can't do this," he whispered.

She touched his shoulder softly, feeling a small measure of comfort when he didn't flinch away from her. "I know, Harry. I understand. Especially not now."

"No, it's—" He turned to her and she saw something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "There's more going on than what I told you before. With the prophecy and everything else." Harry sat up abruptly and took Hermione's hands in his. He saw his own naked fear reflected in her eyes and wished in vain to be able to soften what he had to say next. "At the heart of it, Neville will have to kill Voldemort or be killed himself. And probably me as well. Even if…even if I go back and undo the part of the past I've changed, I'll still have to face him."

He looked at Hermione, tears blurring his vision. "I don't think I can do it. I can't kill him." He paused and took a deep breath. "But more than that, I know I can't go back and leave my mum and Raven and…you," he whispered. "Dumbledore isn't going to make me and I can't even pretend there's a choice to be made. I've come through too much to go back now."

With a startled expression, he remembered the small glass ball he'd brought with him as he'd time traveled, still at the bottom of his bag. Walking behind Professor McGonagall's desk, Harry rooted through the bag until he pulled out the small orb, his breath catching as tendrils of smoke seemed to swirl under the smooth surface. After a few seconds, the gray wisps disappeared and he was left staring at his reflection on the glass surface, his gaze only broken when Hermione crossed the room to stand next to him.

She took the prophecy from his hand and returned it to the bag, avoiding his eyes as she did so. It took a long while before Hermione gathered herself enough to speak. "You know, if you go back, things will be the way they were. It might be easier for you. You'll be exactly where you left off."

"That's not necessarily better," Harry said. "I think…maybe leaving the letter was a mistake," he admitted. "But I don't want to go back to what I had. I know I'm going to die there. At least here I have Neville to help me."

"And me," she said.

"And you," he agreed. He pulled Hermione into his arms, adjusting so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm not saying I'm staying only because of you, but I need everything I can hold onto before I have to face—"

"I understand, Harry," she said, cutting him off. "But maybe you should think about what Dumbledore told you a little longer before you make your decision. It's not just your life that's at stake."

He could tell from the way she squeezed him then that she was beginning to cry, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her from the moment he'd told her he was facing death yet again. Harry held her in silence, knowing that whatever he had to face, he would take what few moments of pleasure he could get out of this life. There would be no going back.

* * *

When Tonks pulled Snape's office door closed behind her, she closed her eyes, willing her heart to steady it's erratic beat. Tripping was the least of her problems, she knew. Snape was going to lead her to Voldemort when most of the country's Aurors were too far away to Apparate to or send a message. Even with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards to help her, she knew the task of arresting both at the same time would be difficult at the very least.

Walking briskly down the hall, she entered Bellatrix Lestrange's office and pulled the door closed behind her. She smiled when she spotted her aunt firmly tied to the chair behind the desk, Bella's mouth working furiously when she spotted her niece.

Tonks nodded at Kingsley. "She give you any trouble?"

He smiled. "Nothing a quick Silencing Charm couldn't fix. She'll have plenty of time to make an official statement once the charges are brought. How did your mission go?"

"Well, I think," she said as she began shortening her hair. "We might have an issue tomorrow, though. Is there any way we can quickly reach Scrimgeour and the others?"

The older Auror shook his head. "We could send an owl that can get there by morning, but I'm not sure anyone knows where they are exactly to Apparate. Besides, it's—"

"Too far," Tonks said with him, nodding. "Do you think the Minister would allow for a few private citizens to help us if we really need it?"

Kingsley's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You don't really think we'll need that many people to arrest Severus Snape, do you?"

She shook her head, her now blue eyes drifting to her aunt who glared at her. "It's not him I'm worried about."


	42. Plan B

"You think he's in a snake?" Tonks looked around at the faces in the Headmistress's office, frowning when Harry, Hermione and Professor McGonagall all nodded in succession. "I don't suppose a sturdy cage to contain him will suffice," she added, skepticism lending a sour note to her voice.

"Not unless it can keep him from biting or possessing one of the Aurors," Harry said. "I'm not sure, but I think if you're close enough to capture Voldemort, he's close enough to possess one of you. Not that I can figure out how that would work."

"You're not the only one who's curious," Tonks said, crossing her arms. "How is it possible that he can possess a snake, let alone that he has the strength to come after one of us? I thought he'd been nearly destroyed years ago." She turned to Professor McGonagall. "When you said Professor Snape is trying to return him to strength, I thought you meant he had a human body—albeit a weak one. I spent all of last night trying to figure out how we were going to overpower him when that may not even be necessary."

"I would not underestimate his strength or resourcefulness," Dumbledore said. His eyes met briefly with Harry's before he spoke again. "Voldemort may be in a severely weakened state, but he was uncommonly powerful in the past. And, as Harry stated, at some point he may be in close enough proximity to possess one of the Aurors. Every available precaution must be taken."

She frowned deeper at this, her bright pink hair turning a deep shade of brown within seconds. "We all have training against this sort of thing, of course, but it's not as if Voldemort is a common dark wizard. The Ministry tried in vain to catch him for years before, and now—" She broke off, looking from Harry to Dumbledore.

"Now, he's only a few short steps away from being able to use his powers again," Harry said. "It may only be necessary for one of you to take on Snape, but you'll need a few people, at least, to capture Voldemort."

"You will have my full support," Professor McGonagall said.

"As well as mine," Dumbledore added. "I also have assurances from Shacklebolt that Sirius will be here within a couple of hours, along with Robards. While Sirius is not a trained Auror, I do believe his defensive skills are sufficiently up to par."

Harry perked up at this mention of his godfather, torn between wanting to speak to him again after so long and wanting to stand next to him and fight Snape and Voldemort. "What about Lupin?" Harry asked. If there was any other Order member he wanted to see at that moment, it was his father's other best friend.

"Remus?" Dumbledore asked. "I haven't been able to get in touch with him, but I don't believe he'll be needed. With at least two trained Aurors, myself, your godfather and Professor McGonagall, I'm sure we can figure out a way to trap Voldemort while he's still in snake form. He may still be powerful, but he won't be unstoppable."

"And if he manages to possess one of us?" Tonks asked.

"The rest of us shall deal with it accordingly," Dumbledore said in a soft voice. "You received top marks throughout your training, I'm sure you know what that means."

She nodded at his cryptic words. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

"Come to what?" Harry asked. As both adults turned to him—Tonks with a forbidding expression, Dumbledore, passive—Harry knew he was no closer to getting an answer to that question than if he'd just guessed.

"Better if we do not discuss it," Dumbledore said. "That is why I want to make sure you and the other students are far away when the time comes. After lunch, Professor Snape is going to lead Auror Tonks to wherever Voldemort is hiding. In the meantime, Professor McGonagall and I will organize the teachers into getting the students out of harm's way, perhaps in the Great Hall. Yourself included, Mr. Potter."

"But, I want to help," he said.

Dumbledore nodded as if expecting the answer. Indeed, after viewing several years worth of memories, he knew the comment was as practiced to Harry as was Dumbledore's immediate negative response. This time, the feel of Hermione's hand in his did nothing to quell the sense of disappointment Harry felt when he recognized that he would not be allowed to participate as they took his stepfather off to Azkaban, he wouldn't even be close enough to watch.

"You'll see the results of your help at the trial and no sooner," Dumbledore stated flatly. "In the meantime," he turned to Tonks, "you have one more brief mission if I'm not mistaken."

She nodded. "I can catch up with Professor Snape after lunch, once we have the other children and Lily taken care of. If he thinks he's speaking to Harry one last time, he may give us a little more information. Then I can arrest him."

"You make it sound simple," Harry put in. "It's not as if he's going to go quietly."

Tonks frowned at his words. "I am trained to handle dark wizards, Harry. I hope I haven't given anyone else here reason to believe I can't handle this," she said, her eyes drifting over everyone in the office.

"I'm sorry," Harry said immediately. "I didn't mean to imply that you don't know what you're doing, but—"

"Harry's just anxious to see everything done," Hermione finished for him. "We know everyone is prepared to handle whatever may happen. We just want you to be careful."

"Yes," Harry said. "Speaking of being careful, what's going to happen when we go to lunch? How do I know he won't try to pull me aside beforehand to get the Key instead of cornering me alone after?"

"Auror Tonks can watch when all of you are outside," Dumbledore said.

"She doesn't have to," Harry said. "He won't hex me in broad daylight in front of three people, especially my mother. I'm more worried about Snape attacking me before we get there. I'd be surprised if he sat with us at all. He disappeared instead of eating lunch with us last week. She'd be better off following him if he does it again."

"Your mum wants to sit down and speak with both of you together," Hermione reminded him. "She won't let him disappear during lunch."

Harry nodded, remembering the statement his mother had made about wanting the two of them to get along, assuming Harry himself needed to make the effort. It seemed so long ago, and so much had happened since, it was surreal to think how much further his life—and his mother's life—would change within the next few hours.

"Besides that," Tonks put in, "Professor Snape has plans to meet with Voldemort this afternoon and will not try to approach you until after that time. I am hoping to draw him into a private conversation after we get an idea where Voldemort is hiding on the grounds and capture them both separately. He will not try to do anything to you before he gets final orders from Voldemort."

"What if he tries to hurt you when he thinks you're me?" Harry asked.

"I can handle him," Tonks responded. "Other Aurors will be close by. No one will get hurt today. I'll see to it."

"So will I," Harry added.

"No, Mr. Potter, you won't," Professor McGonagall said. "You are going to let the Aurors do their job. You only need to sit with your family at lunch and try not to provoke Professor Snape today. We'll need you in the Great Hall no later than three this afternoon. I expect it will all be over before sunset."

"And then we'll just have to explain things to my mother," Harry said. "I don't want to do that. I mean, I know she has to know what 's going on, but she actually loves that—"

"I will speak with Lily," Dumbledore said. "I promised her an explanation for what happened to your father and I will be the one to make sure she gets it. She will not blame your feelings towards Professor Snape for his arrest today."

Harry nodded. While the Minister and Professor McGonagall were both sure his mother would eventually understand, he knew from experience that support from someone he loved in a difficult situation could be neither expected nor taken for granted. He was starting to learn the hard way that loving someone—in his mother's case, the wrong someone—was a complicated and unpredictable business. He knew he was doing the right thing. He knew the man she was married to didn't deserve his mother's love. But he didn't know for sure what it would take to get his mother to see past her knowledge of her son's prejudice and into the heart of the truth.

* * *

"I don't want you to do this," Hermione whispered. She placed a hand on his sleeve before he could pull out one of the glass vials, squeezing as he tried to move beneath her grip.

Harry looked over at her, frowning when his gaze was met with a familiar determined expression. "I thought you said you weren't going to argue with me."

"That wasn't going to last forever," she responded. "You have to know this is wrong."

"What I know is that Bellatrix Lestrange is on her way to Azkaban and Snape is going to face punishment one way or the other. I intend to help." He glanced over to where Tonks sat on a bench several feet away. Disguised as a student, Harry knew Snape would never suspect who she really was, but that also made it difficult for him to carry off his own plan. That, and Hermione's insistence on doing "what's right." Where was Snape's sense of right and wrong when he began slowing poisoning James Potter right under his wife's nose?

"They won't let me join the arrest party," Harry said, "but that doesn't mean I can't contribute something." He released the vials back into his pocket and pulled out of Hermione's grasp. "Plan B is here just in case."

"Plan B means you never intended to follow the instructions we were given this morning," Hermione said. "You promised you wouldn't put yourself in harm's way again."

That was days ago, long before he realized he would ultimately have to give his life to fight Voldemort. Knowing that a confrontation with Snape would not likely lead to any permanent injury gave Harry a resolve he wouldn't have had otherwise. He couldn't tell Hermione this, of course. She'd only accuse him of being reckless. He'd argue with her that Snape deserved what was coming, and they'd have one of the arguments that he wasn't exactly missing from his past life.

He turned to her and put one hand over hers under the table. "I'll make you this promise now. I will not get directly involved in his arrest unless it gets out of hand."

Hermione snatched her hand from under his. "What kind of promise is that? You'll never know if it gets out of hand unless you're there to watch." She frowned. "Which you're not supposed to be."

Harry sighed. "No one will see me. I'll have—"

"Professor McGonagall has your Invisibility Cloak," Hermione said. Harry swore under his breath. "She's hidden it in her office somewhere. She figured you might try something."

"That's not going to stop me," Harry said.

"I figured as much," Hermione whispered. "I was just hoping you'd take a lesson from all of those memories you've shown me. If you listen to the people who are here to protect you, everything will work out."

"Dumbledore was there to protect me for years and Voldemort and his followers kept coming closer and closer to killing me," Harry reminded her. "Now he tells me that's supposed to happen at some point."

"He did not say You-Know-Who is _supposed_ to kill you."

"And," Harry continued. "How do I know he didn't deliberately let him get close to me a few times just to see what would happen? Everyone noticed Professor Quirrell was acting a little off the entire school year. Professor Moody was on a list of strange people going around my fourth year. He wasn't even talking to me most of my fifth year when Voldemort kept getting into my head and he knew exactly what was happening. _Snape_ was the one who let me in on that secret. How do I know he's really around to protect me and not to see me fulfill my destiny or some rubbish like that?"

Hermione looked briefly startled by this accusation, but said nothing. She merely pressed her lips together and folded her arms over her chest, looking out over the courtyard as Harry continued to speak.

"Hermione, you didn't hear him yesterday. You didn't see him. He was telling me all the facts, yes, but the way he reacted when I asked if he wanted me to let Voldemort kill me—he didn't even answer the question. He changed the subject."

"Because that's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed, turning back to him. "Why would he want You-Know-Who to kill you?"

"Maybe because he thinks Voldemort will die at the same he kills me. Is it so far-fetched to believe that's why he doesn't want me involved today? He can't let me get hurt now because he has to save me, and Neville, for slaughter?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe he'd do that. You heard him, he wants to protect you and Neville as long as possible before the inevitable."

"He also wants us to let Voldemort come back into a human form at some point so we can have our battle," Harry said, recalling their conversation from the previous day. "It's possible to kill him while he's in snake form, but Dumbledore doesn't want us to do that. Why? It would probably be easier on both me and Neville to at least try that first. And it has to be one of us, the prophecy is clear about that. You wondered why Dumbledore had that huge notebook of information on Voldemort with a lot of information on how he could come back to human form. He had _instructions_ for it. Why would the Minister of Magic need that?"

Hermione gasped. "Harry, you're not saying—"

"You nearly suggested as much yourself last week."

"Yes, but that was before—"

"That was before we found a cure for the curse and he told me about the prophecy. Think about it, Hermione. When his notebook went missing, he sent Magical Law Enforcement inspectors looking for his notes, but didn't assign one Auror to the case permanently. I could ask Tonks, but I'm sure nothing about the notebook ever came through her office. He had to know Voldemort's supporters would be the only ones interested in those notes, but he didn't get anyone with the training to handle them involved. You read the _Daily Prophet_. He just let everyone think it was high security documents or something and they searched the homes of Ministry employees."

Harry began ticking off points on his fingers. "He knew Snape was a spy in Voldemort's camp. He probably has a whole list of former Death Eaters he could've had investigated based on information Snape gave him years ago. He knew Snape hated my Dad. And now he knows Snape created this horrible curse and is working on getting Voldemort back into a body and he's taking the longest time possible to arrest him for it."

"That's because they want to see him go to Azkaban on the evidence," Hermione said. "Professor McGonagall and everyone, I mean."

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's what Professor McGonagall wants. You can tell it's killing her to be patient about this, but she is. Dumbledore, I'm not so sure. I don't think he expected me to ask too many questions about the prophecy. Neville certainly wouldn't have. I also don't think he expected the Harry he met last week to be quite so involved with what's going to happen to Professor Snape. How do I know he didn't want this to happen? How do I know he's not letting Voldemort's supporters get information because he knows it's going to lead to an end to the whole thing? How do I know who's side he's on?"

"Harry!" At Hermione's exclamation, Tonks looked over from her bench. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and lowered her voice as she spoke again. "You can't be serious. He's been helping us. I can't—I refuse to believe he's setting you up to die. You or Neville. He cares about you. He—"

"He cared about my parents too in this life and the last and look what happened to them," Harry said. "You aren't stupid by any definition, Hermione. I had a lot of time my fifth year to think about what exactly Dumbledore has done to help me. You may not have all of my memories, but you've seen enough of them to notice the pattern. Everything I did, everything I got in trouble for, everything I uncovered when you and Ron and I were sneaking around the school—Dumbledore knew what we were up to and not only did he do nothing to stop it, he encouraged us, behind closed doors, of course."

Harry continued, stopping Hermione's attempt at an interruption. He was beginning to relish the one time he'd be able to outtalk her. "He gave me my father's Invisibility Cloak first year. He knew I'd be able to get the Stone after he let me look into the Mirror of Erised a few times. He even explained to me how it worked. He rewarded me after what happened in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Because you saved Ginny's life."

"Because I know Parseltongue," Harry said. "Which he knew I had in common with Voldemort, The Heir of Slytherin. He didn't even turn Lucius Malfoy in for giving Ginny that diary. He probably knows more about me and Neville than we know about ourselves, but do you think he'll tell us? No. He'll wait until we get into some life or death situation and he has no choice. Even then, he's always said just enough to keep me from asking more questions. He's exactly the same in this life. He was only honest with me yesterday because he isn't used to dealing with me being so…"

"Forceful?" Hermione suggested.

"Yes!" Harry responded. "Didn't you say I'm far more aggressive than you're used to? I think that's why he wants me to think about going back. The other version of himself had a much more rigid control over the situation, whereas here, he has no way of controlling me directly. I've got Professor McGonagall on my side and I've seen and done things Neville can't even imagine. Neville will not willingly face Voldemort, especially once he knows it will probably lead to his death."

"But you have a fighting chance," Hermione said.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "But is that what Dumbledore wants?"

Hermione was silent for a few moments as she let that sink in. "I really don't want to believe he'd set you up that way."

"Believe this then," Harry began. "I know for a fact that he knew what was going on in my past and there's a strong possibility he manipulated a great deal of it because of the prophecy. What Dumbledore believes is good in relation to the prophecy could very well get me killed. I will fight to protect myself against him and those kinds of ideas as much as I will fight against anyone who supports Voldemort openly. You don't have to help me with it, but it would be best if you don't get in my way."

"I will," Hermione said. "Help you," she added at Harry's quick frown. "I don't want to believe Dumbledore could lead you to your death on purpose." She put a hand on Harry's arm as he started to interrupt her. "But, I'll help you survive in whatever way I can."

"Thank you," Harry responded. He turned his arm over on the table and let her hand slip into his.

"That doesn't mean I support you giving Professor Snape a dose of that potion," she said quickly.

Harry shook his head. "I know. It's enough that you won't stop me."

* * *

At the sound of someone clearing their throat, Harry pulled away from Hermione, fighting down a blush as he looked up to find his sister and mother standing on the other side of the stone table. Raven was grinning as she watched them separate while Lily stood with her arms crossed before her, her expression unreadable.

"Mummy says you're in trouble for that," Raven said, coming around the table to hug her brother.

Harry laughed as he pulled her into his arms and covered her small face with kisses. "I wonder if I'll get in trouble for this, then," he said as Raven laughed. Hermione's smile matched his as she watched him tickle his sister, broadening when Raven came to her for a hug as well.

"Isn't Professor Snape coming?" Hermione asked as Raven sat between her and Harry.

Lily nodded. She took a deep breath and Harry knew she was holding back something. Probably because Raven was sitting there. "He'll be here very soon. I think you realize the four of us need to have a serious discussion," she said. "We may even need to get your parents involved, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, but said nothing as she looked at Harry. He knew it was bothering her that his mother hadn't learned the truth yet, but as long as she believed her son and his girlfriend had been under a strict punishment courtesy of Professor McGonagall, Snape wouldn't be suspicious of that trap that was being laid out carefully for him that very moment. Harry didn't want to let on that anything unusual was going on. There was no way he wanted to be responsible for anything going wrong later.

"There are some things we need to talk about," Harry began. Hermione's head whipped around towards him, her eyes widening. "The punishment Professor McGonagall put us on—"

"Was temporary," Lily finished. She nodded at Harry's surprised expression. "She spoke to me about it briefly." Lily closed her eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. "She told me not to be too harsh on either of you and that there would be a full explanation later. I can't say that I believe there will be sufficient explanation for this after the talk we had last weekend," she sighed, "but I am willing to believe Professor McGonagall doesn't think too harshly of you after whatever you've done."

"She doesn't Mum, but it wasn't because of something I've done," Harry said.

"Then what, Harry? Why did she force the two of you to spend most of the week in her office?"

"I—well, really it was my fault," Hermione said, drawing Lily's eyes away from her son. "I had convinced him to help me with something." Hermione looked away from Lily as she continued her lie. "We lost track of the time. When Professor McGonagall found out we'd been out of our dorm—"

"Until all hours, as I heard from my husband," Lily supplied. "Forgive me, but I don't think you're telling me the truth, Hermione. After what took place last year, and after I defended your behavior with my son to your parents, I would hope you'd respect me more than to lie to my face."

At Lily's words, Hermione lowered her eyes to the table and pressed her lips together in a contrite gesture. Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. He could appreciate how difficult it was for her to lie to his mother, but neither of them was really in a position to tell her the full truth at that point.

"Mum, we really aren't in trouble for doing anything serious," Harry said. "Professor McGonagall isn't even upset with us. She—"

"She's letting you off punishment, then?" Snape said. Harry winced at his sister's loud squeal of delight as he watched his enemy take the seat next to his mother across the table. "Strange, I expected she would wish to keep you there until long after you regretted your actions. Unless you've somehow convinced her you're truly going to change your ways this time?" he asked silkily.

Harry frowned but forced himself to not respond as he took in Hermione's gaze out of the corner of his eye.

"She's partly convinced she overreacted," Hermione lied smoothly. "We'll both be glad to return to our normal class schedules next week."

"I'm sure your teachers will be delighted to have you back, Miss Granger," Snape said. "I've certainly noticed a lull in my lessons without your presence."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at his bland expression.

"I would still like to know the nature of the offense," Lily said. "I can't believe she would do something so harsh over a small incident that amounted to nothing."

"Your son is a special case," Snape said. "Perhaps Minerva felt the need to give him special treatment instead of, say, a month's worth of detentions like he might have deserved."

Lily frowned and tilted her head slightly as she regarded her husband. "Well, as _our_ responsibility, I thought you said you would look out for him more. You know how worried I've been."

"Yes, worried because he can't control his impulses, Lily," Snape responded. "I can't force him to grow up any more than you."

Lily gasped. "Well, I can't—"

"Mum, Sn—Professor Snape, would you mind changing to a more pleasant subject?" Harry put his arm around his sister then in a bid to remind both adults they were starting a loud argument in her presence. Raven had been following the entire conversation with all the curiosity of a child her age. If Harry remembered correctly, the sight of her parents arguing was having an effect that would manifest itself later.

Lily cleared her throat and then turned to her husband, a small fake smile on her face. "How about drinks, Sev? It's warm out here."

He nodded and then waved his wand briefly over the table, producing bottles of butterbeer for Harry and Hermione, a glass of soda for Raven, a glass of pumpkin juice for Lily and mulled mead for himself. No sooner had his drink appeared on the table did Snape pick up the tumbler and toss it back appreciatively, refilling the alcohol with a quick flick of his wand as his wife watched disapprovingly.

Silence lay over the table for a few minutes until Hermione cleared her throat and asked about Bathilda Bagshot.

"Her doctor's say she is doing considerably better under the circumstances," Lily said. Her voice sounded tired suddenly. And sad, Harry thought. "She's still got a long ways to go before she is able to live on her own."

"An excuse for you to stay on?" Snape asked in a low voice.

"I like living with Madam Bagshot," Raven said. "She's always giving me candy."

Lily smiled at that. "And you've been good not to spend all day every day eating it," she responded, ignoring her husband's comment.

"Can we see the unicorns before lunch?" Raven asked. "Last week you said there were some baby ones here we might be able to see. Please?" she begged, stretching out the word until her mother gave her a genuine smile.

"Sev, would you mind walking her over to the forest? I'm not sure where Professor Hagrid is at the moment. You might have to take her a little ways in yourself."

"Aren't you coming with us Mummy?"

Lily began nodding almost before her daughter had finished the question, looking to her husband for confirmation. Their discussion was far from over, even Harry could see that, but without a word, Snape stood and helped his wife from the table, holding out his other hand to his daughter as they prepared to leave.

"This shouldn't take long," Lily said over her shoulder to Harry and Hermione. "We'll have lunch when we get back."

As they reached the edge of the courtyard, Tonks watched them walk into the building, her eyes shooting back to where Harry and Hermione sat at the stone table. After a few more seconds of hesitation, she got up and followed the three at a discreet distance, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in that section of the courtyard.

"Thank goodness for my sister," Harry began.

"Why is that?" Hermione asked.

"I had no idea how I was going to do this with her sitting right next to me," he responded, reaching into his pocket for a glass vial. When he pulled the container of clear liquid from his pocket, Hermione frowned and crossed her arms, but said nothing. She watched as Harry poured a measure of Snape's drink onto the ground, replaced it with the potion, then performed the necessary transfiguration on it to make it undetectable.

"I know you think it's wrong," Harry said, correctly interpreting her continued stormy expression. "I won't do it unless I think he's going to get away. With Voldemort on his side, there's always that chance."

"There's a chance a lot of things could be happening, Harry. You can't take extreme measures for all of them."

He nodded, knowing that if Hermione had been forced to experience even half the memories she'd watched, let alone if she had been the target of all of those attacks, she wouldn't be able to preach to him about his personal virtue being in jeopardy. The only thing that mattered was protecting his life. If it took a dose of his own potion to defend himself from Snape, Harry was more than willing to do that.

* * *

Harry couldn't stop the smile that sprang to his face as he watched Professor Snape refill his cup for the third time. Surprisingly, the man could hold his liquor well. But that wasn't what was making Harry so happy. Judging from the looks Hermione was giving him, she knew exactly what that was.

"Something on your mind, Harry?" Lily asked. She'd caught his smile too and answered it with one of her own.

"Nothing," he said. "I just realized how beautiful today is. And how much better everything is going to be from now on."

"How touching," Snape said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you learned how to brew a Euphoria Potion. Remind me to get the secret to natural oblivious happiness from you later, Potter."

Lily's eyes narrowed on her husband's face as she took in his address and harsh tone towards her son. Frowning slightly, she pushed her plate into the center of the table and touched her napkin to both corners of her mouth. "I couldn't eat another bite."  
"I could eat more pie," Raven said.

"I'm sure you could," Lily said, "but it'd be best if you saved a little of your appetite for dinner. Why don't we all walk off that amazing meal on the grounds?"

"We can't," Harry and Hermione said together as Professor Snape indicated his own unwillingness to go.

Lily looked at them all in surprise.

"I—we have an assignment to finish," Hermione said lamely.

"You can always do that later," Lily said.

"Yes, but we left some of our things in Professor McGonagall's office," Harry said. "I don't know when she'll be around so we can get them later. I think she mentioned being busy all day tomorrow." He looked at Hermione for help.

"Yes, she…we have to get the rest of our books moved out because she's got a lot to catch up on after spending so much time with us this week," Hermione babbled. "Plus, I just know my Arithmancy essay alone is going to take the rest of the day. Never mind the Herbology assignment."

"You'll have to help me with that one," Harry said immediately, feigning a worried expression. "They're giving us so much homework to prepare for our O.W.L.s, Mum."

She nodded and her eyes dropped briefly. "I get it, Harry. You're busy. I can see you before I leave tomorrow."

"It's not that I don't want to spend time with you." He stopped, seeing the small fake smile she reserved for when she was hiding her true feelings. Snape's eyes narrowed at both Harry and Hermione.

"I understand," she said tersely. "We'll talk about it later." Lily turned. "Sev? Why aren't you walking with us?"

"I have a few things to take care of. I'm sorry that it can't wait," he added before she could say something. "Perhaps I can meet you in my office in a couple of hours?" He nodded his head across the table. "Besides, I think our daughter is more ready for a nap than a walk," he added.

As soon as he pointed it out, Raven let out a yawn so big she nearly slid from the bench.

"I suppose I could take her to your quarters to lay down for a bit instead," Lily said uncertainly. "Are you sure your plans can't wait?"

"I'm sure I want to get it out of the way so I can spend the rest of the weekend with you," Snape said smoothly. "Unfortunate that I couldn't take care of it this morning, but—"

"Take care of what?" Harry asked.

"Adult business," Snape responded, his voice lowering. "I think you have enough to worry about without getting involved in my affairs."

"Harry, we should go," Hermione said, tugging him from his seat as she stood herself. They both waited long enough to receive goodbye hugs from his sister before Hermione dragged him into the building by one hand, practically shoving Harry up the stairs in the Entrance Hall. By the time they made it to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress's office, Harry was favoring the stitch in his side he'd gotten attempting to keep up with Hermione's brisk pace.

"Is there a reason we had to run all the way up here?" Harry asked as Hermione gave the password.

"You want to know what's going on, don't you?" Hermione asked. "I think Professor McGonagall left the Marauder's Map up here earlier. We can follow Professor Snape's progress from here. If he's really going to see You-Know-Who right now," she said, stepping onto the staircase as it began to move, "we can see if he's close enough to the castle to possess you or Neville. At the very least, we can see the Aurors approaching to capture him."

"Then it'll just be a matter of waiting for Snape to be arrested," Harry said.

"Yes," Hermione said as they entered the office. "The rest of it is only a matter of time."


	43. Anger Bargaining Denial Acceptance

Yes, the dreaded author's note at the _beginning_ of the chapter. This isn't an action-oriented story by any means as I enjoy drawing out the suspense in anything I write. For those who are a bit squeamish about violence, I didn't write any great detail in any of the scenes of this chapter (nor do I plan to do so in the ones that follow), but there's a little more…hands-on involvement than I've previously written. If you don't like the slightest hint of violence, the end of this chapter is probably not for you. To tell the truth, watching the Saw movies over the last couple of weeks has given me great ideas. Or disturbing, depending on your perspective.

The story really is coming close to the end now. Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed and managed to get through all of the sappiness. Hopefully, you'll stick around for the sequel.

* * *

Before Hermione had walked fully into the room, she saw Harry raise his wand and Summon his Invisibility Cloak. A few seconds later, he followed the swish of fabric through the air and caught it. "That's taken care of," he said as he pushed it down into the pocket of his jeans. He tucked the distending edges under his t-shirt. Harry turned to search behind Professor McGonagall's desk.

"I brought you up here so we could stay out of the way," Hermione said from the doorway.

Her annoyance was clear, but he didn't feel the urge to continue their disagreement from earlier. Besides, they both knew where the other stood and it wasn't likely to change any time soon. She would just have to deal with it.

"Plans change," Harry responded. He pulled the knife Sirius had given him out of his bag and slipped it into his pocket. "Besides, if anything goes wrong, we need to be able to get where we're going unnoticed. Not even the portraits will be able to see where we are."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You say that as if they can't see what you're doing now."

Harry looked up at her statement. The portraits around the room were shamming sleep as usual, but he had no doubt Hermione was right. It was a risk he'd have to take. "Where's the Map?"

"On the desk." Hermione walked over as Harry opened the parchment onto the desk. It was still activated and in no time at all, they were able to spot where Professor Snape was walking at a brisk pace past Hagrid's cabin and into the forest. Not too far behind him, Tonks followed.

"I hope she's using a spell so he can't see her."

Hermione gave him a look that plainly said he wasn't thinking. "Of course she is," she said. "She'd have to be to follow him so closely. I just don't know where Dumbledore and the others are. I thought they were going to follow until Tonks was safely back at the school." She adjusted the Map, looking at different floors. "Your godfather should be here any minute. Are you looking forward to seeing him?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled as he thought of the last time he'd seen Sirius in person, at Christmas. "It'll be strange, though. When I knew Sirius, he'd been imprisoned in Azkaban for years, and he was starving and on the run once he escaped. All of that made him…a little crazy to say the least. He's going to be completely different from what I remember." _He'll be what I need right now_, Harry thought.

"What matters is that he'll want what's best for your family. I'm sure your mother will appreciate that once she knows everything," Hermione said.

"What I will appreciate more is knowing what's going on."

They both turned abruptly as Lily strode towards them across the office.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, peering cautiously around Lily to the stairs behind her. "Does Professor Snape know you're here?"

Lily looked startled by the question. "No, he's gone, but you already knew that. I get the feeling that's not really your concern," she added. She glanced back and forth between the two nervous teenagers. "I want you to tell me what's going on."

Harry looked quickly at Hermione. She clasped his hand and moved closer to him. Her skin felt clammy against his, but he was glad of her comfort all the same.

"Maybe we should wait for Professor McGonagall and the Minister," she said, "They wanted to—"

"No," Lily said. "I want you to tell me. You weren't being punished, were you? You almost said as much earlier. Why were you really being kept here?"

Harry sighed. He had been telling Hermione the truth. He had no wish to continue to lie to someone he cared about, particularly his mother. He'd done it more than enough already. There was no gentle way to tell her the entirety of what had been going on and it looked as if she wasn't going to give them a choice whether to let her in on it.

"The truth is," Harry began. "Part of the reason is because I know who killed Dad and I figured out he's going to do something much, much worse."

* * *

Suppressing a small laugh, Bellatrix watched as the disemboweled body of Gawain Robards slumped to the floor. Dropping his wand and snatching her own from the table, she cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on herself. She pressed her ear to the cool surface of the door and listened. All was silent except for the distant whirr of the elevator on the other side of the floor. Bellatrix eased through the door of the interrogation room and scanned the outer room quickly before breaking into a full-out run around the empty cubicles to the second floor elevator. She knew she had only a few minutes before someone realized she had escaped and came after her. It wouldn't take much longer than that for them to guess where she'd gone.

Stepping into a fireplace in the Ministry of Magic Atrium, Bellatrix closed her eyes and whispered her destination. She intended to have her business done long before any of her would-be captors had time to catch up with her.

* * *

Tonks stopped short at the corner that lead to Snape's dungeon office and quickly began to assess the situation. When Snape had taken off abruptly from the courtyard after lunch, she'd realized with disappointment that she didn't have time to signal anyone where they were going if she wanted to keep up with him. They were only in the woods a short time when Snape Summoned a small object out of her vision, turned abruptly and headed back to the castle, an angry expression causing her to scramble out of his way though she knew he couldn't see her.

When he'd gone into his office and slammed the door, she'd known she had two choices. Go in as Harry and confront him as planned, without backup, or go throughout the castle looking for her reinforcements, wasting precious time. It wasn't much of a choice, really, and she knew that. Just as she knew she had to catch him off guard in order to arrest him and this was the only opportunity she'd have to do that.

Her mind made up, she made the necessary changes to her appearance and approached the office door, mindful of her assurances to everyone that morning that she could handle what she was about to do, with or without reinforcements. She was, after all, a trained professional. What better test of her skills than a direct confrontation with a Death Eater harboring the greatest threat to Wizarding society?

Before she could knock on the closed door, it opened and Snape stood before her, a slow smile dawning on his face. He stood back from the doorway and gestured for her to enter the office.

"Lucky that I don't have to go searching for you, Potter," he said just before slamming the door shut behind her.

Tonks shuddered. She was in for the trial of her life.

* * *

"You can't be serious." The words came out in a whispered rush of air and Lily looked around at both teenagers wildly, frowning when neither of them bothered to negate the statement. "How would you—?" Her voice broke off and she coughed, struggling to pull air into her lungs as she took in her son's stony expression.

"I was attacked," Harry said. "Last week at Hogsmeade Station. He had someone put the same curse on me that killed Dad. I would've died from it too if Hermione and I hadn't spent the better part of the last week or so trying to find a cure."

"Professor McGonagall helped us create it and gave us all the time we needed to research," Hermione added. "That's why she kept us out of classes. She's also been helping us get evidence so he can be sent to Azkaban."

"I don't—I don't understand," Lily said. "This doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone attack you?" She looked at her son and he noted that her eyes had quickly filled with tears.

Without answering, Harry gestured to one of the chairs in front of Professor McGonagall's desk and waited until his mother collapsed into it. He leaned against the front of the desk with Hermione next to him, waiting until his mother had seemed to get her breathing under control before speaking.

"He's a Death Eater and I found out he and a few others have a plan to bring Voldemort back," Harry stated. At his mother's shocked expression, he continued. "I stole information he needed to create a body for Voldemort and he's been after me ever since."

"Who?" Lily said. Her voice had become so soft Harry could barely hear her, but he knew even from the pleading look in her eyes, she was willing him not to say the name she was thinking.

"I can't do this," he said. Hermione slipped an arm around him and squeezed his side as he leaned into her. As happy as he was that Snape was finally going to get punished, he couldn't bear to be the one to tell his mother she'd loved and trusted the wrong man for years. He couldn't force himself to say what he knew was going to destroy whatever she'd felt she had to hold onto after his father died. The one person she'd come to depend on for everything. The person she had defended to her own son. "Hermione, you know how hard this is."

"Shh. Yes, I know," she responded. Hermione looked over to Harry's mother. She'd had no visible reaction to their quiet exchange, but the woman was watching both of them warily, her mouth parted as if she were going to utter a denial before the accusation was fully made.

"We didn't want to tell you unless we had proof," Hermione said. She glanced at Harry. "The Minister assured us both that he's not going to hurt you or Raven or anyone else anymore." At those words, Lily rose from her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. Harry began reaching towards his mother. She snatched her hand back.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so, so sorry," Harry said.

"No! No, I won't listen to this. Has he got you believing the same things he was telling me over the summer?" Lily pointed at her son as she sobbed, her voice rising shrilly on the last word. "How far will you go with your conspiracy theories before you realize you can't turn me away from him?"

"I'm not lying!"

Lily took another step back at this outburst and shook her head again. "You're certainly not telling the truth if you expect me to believe—"

"He tried to kill me," Harry said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the second glass vial of the potion he'd made. "He gave me this potion, who knows how many times, and had someone attack me last week. He did the same thing to Dad. He was probably dosing him with it for years, increasing the symptoms, just waiting for him to die so he could get to you."

"Harry, stop it!" Hermione pushed away from the desk and rushed to Lily's side, tears forming in her own eyes as Harry's mother embraced her. "We're sorry we had to lie to you. We had no choice but to keep it hidden. If he'd known Harry suspected he was really behind the attack last week, he might have killed him here at Hogwarts."

Lily stood up straight suddenly and began wiping frantically at her eyes with the edges of her sleeves. "Severus couldn't have done this. He's not the kind of person who would hurt someone," she whispered. Though her words were disbelieving, the look in her eyes spoke volumes. "Maybe he was being threatened or—or he was under the Imperius Curse."

"You know better than that," Harry said quietly. "You know what he was like at school. Even after Dad and his friends stopped picking on him as much, he was never really a nice person, was he? And he was truly a Death Eater once he left school. The thing is, he never stopped being one. He just didn't have Voldemort to follow. He's been trying to change that."

An alarm went off from the direction of the stairs and Harry started. "What is that?"

"It's a wailing klaxon," Hermione said. "The same kind of charm that's on the stairs in the girls' dormitory. I wonder who tried to come up here."

"Professor McGonagall obviously didn't have a problem with my mum being allowed into her office," Harry replied. "One guess who she would've set that alarm against."

"I thought he went into the forest," she said. "Check the Map."

Harry leaned over the parchment on the desk and flipped the page, quickly scanning the large area of woods they'd seen Snape walking through earlier. "I don't see him here at all," Harry said. "Either he's so far into the woods I can't find him on the Map or he's back inside the castle. I put my money on him trying to break in here to hurt me again." He turned back to Hermione and his mother. "You saw the way he was acting at lunch. It's only a matter of time before he lets that mask slip and shows the real monster underneath."

"Harry, can you please see if he's in the dungeons?"

"Raven is asleep in his quarters," Lily said. She approached the desk as Harry turned the page to show the dungeons. "What is this Map?"

"Dad and his friends made it when they were in school so they could…well, so they could get sneak around and not get caught," Harry said. "There he is." Harry put his finger on the square representing Snape's office. "He's in his office with Tonks. She's an Auror who's disguised herself as me," Harry said by way of explanation to his mother.

"Then who was outside this office?" Hermione asked. She approached the desk and pulled the Map closer so she could examine it. "There's no one there now."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "We're safe in here. As long as Tonks keeps him in that office and talking, it'll work out the way it's supposed to. It's probably the last chance they'll have to get information from him before they arrest him."

"Harry, you can't expect me to believe your stepfather tried to kill you," Lily said. Her whisper indicated that she was waiting in vain for him to deny the truth of his statement.

"If you don't believe he'd go after me, just remember how much he hated Dad when you were in school," Harry said. "It wasn't just two kids who couldn't get along. There was a real hatred there. At least on Snape's side. It never went away." He put a hand on his mother's shoulder and looked into eyes betraying the pain and fear he'd been so wary to put there. In time, he knew, it would go away.

"I'm sorry. I know hearing this is hurting you," Harry began, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

"But he loves me," she whispered.

"Probably," Harry responded. "But he may have hated Dad even more."

"I had hoped you'd wait for me," Professor McGonagall said from the doorway. The three turned together and watched as the Headmistress, Dumbledore and Sirius Black crossed the office.

"Sirius?" Lily's eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to help you," he said as Lily stepped into his arms. He hugged her tight before looking over her head, his face breaking into a huge grin. "It's like looking back in time," Sirius remarked, his gaze settling on Harry. "You look so much like your father. Even more than I remember."

"He manages to get into trouble just like him too," Lily said, stepping back from the embrace. "I can't imagine how you got drawn into this."

"My cousin and Minister Dumbledore explained the situation to me and I had to come." He grasped Lily firmly by both shoulders. "I know this is going to be difficult for you, but once Severus is locked up—"

"This cannot be happening," Lily said. She pushed away from Sirius's reach. "Harry, tell them you've made this up," she pleaded. When her son said nothing, she looked over to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, tears blurring her vision as the two figures regarded her with somber expressions. "There really is proof?" she asked, more statement than question.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I hate to say it, but there is evidence that goes back even to your years at school."

As silent tears traced their way down Lily's face, Harry looked over at his godfather who looked healthier, and possibly younger, than Harry remembered seeing him, even when he was living at Grimmauld Place. The years of free living had obviously done Sirius a world of good. Even as his mother struggled to accept what she was being told about her husband, Harry longed to pull his godfather to the side and fire questions at him, to learn everything he could about the life he'd helped shape for the people in the room.

"Perhaps it's best if you wait outside," Dumbledore said, nodding towards Harry and Hermione.

"To the Great Hall," Professor McGonagall corrected. "It's almost time."

Harry nodded, inwardly cursing that he hadn't had time to snag the Map before they'd been interrupted. "Come on, Hermione," he said, grabbing her hand. He smiled at his godfather as he walked past, taking small comfort that Sirius had taken to holding his mother again, whispering assurances to her about what she'd just learned.

"How long do you think she'll be like that?" Harry asked.

"You've got to be patient," Hermione responded as they started walking down the stairs. "She's just found out something horrible about her husband. I can't imagine she'll ever get over it. I wouldn't."

"You know, Hermione, you're not doing much to comfort me right now."

Hermione sighed and took his hand as they tackled the next flight of stairs. "I'm sorry Harry, but there's really no other way to say some of these things. She's just heard something devastating. In spite of what he's done, some part of her loves him and probably will a long time after today."

Harry nearly stumbled over the next step. "You think she still loves him?"

"Well, yes. It's not something one can just turn off. Knowing what she now knows, her feelings aren't going to be easy to deal with."

"And I can't even help her with it, can I?" he asked. "You saw the way she was looking at me. Like she'd rather believe I'd lie to her about something like that, in spite of how much it was hurting her."

"She didn't know how to deal with it," Hermione said. "You've been accusing him of wrongdoing for a long time. She thought you were just angry with him for whatever reason. Or paranoid."

"It's not paranoia if someone really is after you."

"We both know that," Hermione responded. "Now, so does your mother. She'll find a way to deal with it and she'll trust you completely from now on."

Harry stopped short, swaying a bit as the staircase moved beneath them. "You think she stopped trusting me?"

"I—well, maybe a bit. You accused him of having secret plans with Lucius Malfoy over the summer with nothing but protections around his home office as proof that he was hiding something." Hermione shrugged. "She had to have doubts because she knew the two of you don't get along."

"Now she'll have no choice but to admit I was right all along."

"And she'll have to explain to Raven what's happening now. That's going to be worse," Hermione stated. "Trying to get your sister to understand why her father's going to Azkaban."

"And that her beloved brother is to blame," Harry said as they descended the final set of stairs to the ground floor. "Really looking forward to that conversation." He stopped on the ground floor and waited until Hermione stood next to him. "I know what Professor McGonagall said, but—"

"She's got the Map opened on her desk, Harry," Hermione warned. "She'll notice if you're so much as down the hall from his office."

Harry nodded, backing towards the next set of stairs as he said, "But she'll be too far away to do anything about it. She'd have to come down here. Besides, there's no harm in listening outside the door, is there?"

Hermione sighed and watched Harry take the final flight of stairs down into the dungeons before throwing her hands in the air and following him.

* * *

Tonks stopped short at the sight of the large black and orange snake curled on the center of Snape's desk. She felt an instant's moment of fear then relaxed minutely as she realized the creature was not poised to attack her. Yet. She began gauging the distance between herself and the snake, wondering if she could draw her wand in time to kill it before it reached her.

"Admiring the snake? I thought I'd let you satisfy your curiosity about my secret before I take care of you," Snape said from behind her.

She turned quickly, her arms behind her back. "Take care of me?" she asked in Harry's voice. Tonks fumbled with the edge of her sleeve, suppressing a sigh as she realized she should've pulled out her wand before entering the room. "You must think a lot of yourself if you assume you're going to take care of anything." The edge of her wand slid against her fingertips and she eased it out slowly, keeping an eye on Snape as he crossed the office to where she stood.

Snape let out a short, mirthless laugh. "It's you who's been a little too confident this entire time. But there are no other chances, are there?" he asked. "No more walls to hide behind. No secrets that must stay hidden." He let his voice drop to a whisper. "No more mummy to plead for you."

Before Tonks could think of a reply, a sharp pain pierced through her head accompanied by a shrill, high whisper that seemed to be coming simultaneously from her own thoughts and the very walls around her. She fell to her knees, dropped her wand and put her hands over her ears, screaming as the pain seemed to intensify in strength. She'd scarcely had time to acknowledge the blood pouring from her ears in thin streams when she felt her air supply being choked off. Her body began rising into the air. She landed in the chair before the desk with a small thud. Ropes snaked around her seconds later, binding her tightly to her seat. Snape walked around the desk and surveyed her from his own seat, a small smile playing across his thin lips.

"It seems the Dark Lord is unhappy with you as well," Snape remarked. "Not so cocky now, are we Potter?" he drawled. He rolled his wand between his fingers before flicking it to release Tonks from the spell, allowing her to breathe freely. Slowly, the pain in her head eased.

She struggled against the ropes binding her. "Let me go!" she said in a strangled voice. It was nothing like her own. Nothing like Harry's either. It was a garbled voicing of the pain and frustration she felt as she recognized her own helplessness for what it was. The beginning of her end.

Snape laughed and flicked his wand in her direction again, causing a return to the pain in her head. After a few seconds, it spread to her chest and she found herself struggling to breathe again. Releasing her, he stood and flicked his wand quickly towards his fireplace.

"Do you know why I haven't killed you long before now?" Snape asked. He raised his wand and pointed it at Tonks. "I lo—" The words seemed to choke him. Snape cleared his throat as he circled the desk. "I tried to spare your mother the death of her precious son—the meddling fool who is the one living, breathing reminder of someone I've spent most of my life hating. And what did I get for my trouble? What have I to show for my consideration? Interference from someone who didn't know when to leave well enough alone. I tried to keep you out of this, I even ordered Lucius not to kill you immediately, but to erase your memory—more fool me."

He stopped next to the chair and looked down at the green eyes he believed belonged to his stepson. "You deserve every bit of what is coming to you."


	44. Over the Edge

Just as Harry reached the bottom of the steps leading into the dungeons, he stopped short; a wave of dizziness swept over him. He blinked hard as the hall swam in and out of focus. His fingers fumbled for the banister. Hermione reached for his shoulders just as he began to stumble, sinking down until he sat hard on the last stair.

"Harry?" Hermione yelled. She jumped down the remaining steps. "What's wrong?"

A sharp pain shot through Harry's head. He closed his eyes and tried to push the feeling away. It had become difficult to focus. Briefly, he saw Snape's back and legs as he bent over someone before the vision was pushed from his mind and the dungeon hall came back into view.

"It's Voldemort. I can hear him. He—he's laughing."

"What?" Hermione crouched next to Harry at the bottom of the stairs and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Can you tell where he is?"

He looked at her, wincing as another sharp pain struck him. "They're in Snape's office."

"That's impossible," Hermione said. She looked down the hall then, straining to hear sounds coming from the office. "We would've seen him on the Marauder's Map."

"He's not exactly human right now," Harry said. "I don't think he would show up." He closed his eyes briefly and forced away the pain causing him to lose focus on their conversation. "They're torturing Tonks. You have to go back upstairs and get help."

"I have to go?" she asked. She glanced down the hall again before turning back to him, her fingers sinking deep into his shoulder. "Tell me you're not going to do what I'm thinking. Harry, you can't," she pleaded. "If he's really in there, he could kill you now."

"They're _torturing_ her. Do you expect me to just do nothing?" he asked. Harry was suddenly reminded of having almost the same conversation with Hermione a little over two weeks earlier, when it was Sirius he felt he had to save. He had been wrong then. He knew he wasn't now.

A high, blood-curdling scream carried through the air. They locked eyes as the sound echoed against the walls around them before fading away. They didn't have time to waste arguing and they both knew it. Hermione nodded. "I'll bring them down here as soon as I can."

"I'll do whatever I can to help her," Harry said. When Hermione paused on the step above him, he added, "I'll stay safe. I promise. Run."

Nodding, Hermione took the stairs two at a time, wincing as another scream rent the air of the cool halls below her.

* * *

Draco entered his dorm room, looking around quickly as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He pulled the door shut and walked towards his bed in the far corner, searching for the barely discernable outline that would indicate the presence of another person.

"Are you still here?" he whispered.

"Of course," Bellatrix said into his ear.

Draco jumped and turned swiftly, straining to make out his aunt's form in the low lighting. "The um…I couldn't get into the office. There was some kind of alarm."

Bella sighed. "I thought your father taught you how to work around these things."

"Breaking into the Headmistress's office is a lot different than breaking into someone's desk," he commented. A slap to his face was his aunt's response. He frowned, rubbing the place where her skin had met his. "You know, if you want me to help you—"

"Don't take that tone with me, Draco," Bella began. He felt the edges of her nails playing along his throat and had to force himself not to take a step backwards. "I don't take kindly to family disloyalty. Since you didn't have the ability to break into the office, you'll have to do one last thing for me," she said.

Draco leaned back until her nails no longer made contact with his skin. "What is that?"

"You'll have to go into my office and retrieve something from my desk." She paused. "I would not advise coming back without it, Draco. Many lives may depend on how you handle this."

* * *

Hermione ran up the staircase to the Headmistress's office and banged on the door. She wrenched it open before anyone could answer. Looking around, she spotted Dumbledore and Sirius having an animated discussion on the far side of the office. "Where's Professor McGonagall?" she asked. She coughed and leaned against the wall just inside the door, clutching her side to ease a persistent cramp.

"Miss Granger, you should catch your breath." Dumbledore came forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's happened? Sit and explain."

"There's no time," Hermione said, grabbing Dumbledore's wrist. "Where is she? We have to go back."

Sirius stepped forward. He pulled his wand out as he asked, "It's started, hasn't it?"

"Voldemort is in the office with them," Hermione explained. She paused. "Harry said Tonks is being tortured. He's stayed down there to help. I couldn't talk him out of it," she said as Dumbledore went over to the fireplace. "Where's Professor McGonagall?" she asked again.

"Escorting Lily to the Great Hall after they pick up Raven," Sirius responded. He looked over as Dumbledore swore. "What is it?"

"Severus has blocked off Floo access. We'll have to take the long way." Going towards the stairs, Dumbledore stopped next to Hermione. "You must do something for me, Miss Granger. It's very important." She nodded. "I need you to use the Floo to get a message to Kingsley Shacklebolt or Gawain Robards. Tell them I don't care if they're finished with the interrogation, I need every available Auror at Hogwarts immediately."

Motioning to Sirius, Dumbledore led the way downstairs.

* * *

The screams echoing against the walls caused Draco to flatten himself against the wall and freeze in place, eyes widening as the voice rose higher. It was coming from the next hall. Peeking around the corner, he saw that all of the doors were closed. The screams started again and he closed his eyes until the unsettling sound died down. He had to do this, in spite—no _because_ he didn't want to end up like whoever was currently screaming inside Professor Snape's office. Family or not, he had no doubt Aunt Bella would do exactly as she'd threatened in his room.

Moving quickly, Draco strode down the hall and unlocked the door to her office, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. Pausing as another scream started, he tried to remember where she'd told him to look. He went over to the desk and unlocked the top right drawer with the spell she'd given him. He dug through the papers inside until his fingers closed around a small black box.

Lifting it out, he lifted the lid and examined the bracelet inside. It was just as Bella had described it: a thin, gold chain adorned with several charms. Remembering the most urgent of her instructions, Draco checked that the small notebook charm and the gleaming gold cup dangling from the bracelet were firmly secured to the thin chain before closing the box and slipping it into his pocket.

As he reached for the doorknob, shouts from outside caught his attention. There were at least two voices, just outside Professor Snape's office. Looking around, Draco spotted his only option. As a blast shook the walls and floor, Draco stepped inside the Floo, removed the spell disabling it and escaped into the Slytherin common room.

* * *

Harry approached the door slowly, wincing as Tonks's next scream coincided with another sharp pain through his head. He pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and the knife at the same time, simultaneously hoping for a bit of relief for the Auror inside and wishing Snape would be distracted long enough for him to get into the office to help.

After a few seconds of fiddling with the blade, Harry swore. The knife wasn't opening the door. He pointed his wand at the lock and began muttering spells to unlock it, another scream forcing him to wince as he did so. "_Confrigo_," Harry whispered, cursing again as the door shook lightly in its frame before remaining as immobile as it had before.

Harry looked up as steps coming down the stairs indicated that help had come. He had just enough time to move away from the door, clutching the Invisibility Cloak around himself, before Dumbledore and Sirius stopped outside the office.

"Severus, open this door!" Dumbledore shouted. He motioned for Sirius to come around to his other side. "You won't be able to escape!"

Tonks stopped screaming and Harry felt temporary rage flash through his mind before Snape answered.

"I don't need to escape," he called out. "I've done everything that needs to be done." Tonks screamed again and Snape laughed. "I just have a little business to take care of and you then you can have the remains."

"Blasting Curse on three," Dumbledore whispered. Sirius nodded. Harry inched further away from the door, holding his wand in front of him as the older wizard began the countdown. Seconds later, the door blasted open and Dumbledore and Sirius ran inside, Harry following close behind them.

Draco had scarcely entered the room when he felt the touch of his aunt's nails on the back of his neck.

"I trust you did the right thing, Draco," she whispered into his ear. Her nails sank into his skin, drawing a small amount of blood. "Disappointing me is not an option."

Wordlessly, he pulled the box from his pocket and held it in the air, frowning when she snatched the box with one hand, but did not release him.

"Is there something else?"

Her low chuckle sent a shiver down his back. "There will be plenty more for you to do in the days and weeks to come, dear nephew. I hope you'll be prepared to help your family in every way you can. Starting with getting back at Harry Potter."

Draco turned to face his aunt, straining to see her outline. "What do you mean? Why would I want to get back at him?"

Bellatrix chuckled and released her nephew. "Because he's the one who's gotten your father into the mess he's in. Keep your enemy close, Draco. I'll be in touch." Before he could ask her to explain what she'd meant about his father, she'd slipped out of his dorm room and down the stairs to escape through the Floo connection in the common room.

* * *

Dumbledore entered the office first, blocking the first spell Snape aimed at him with practiced ease. Sirius levitated Tonks out of the way, moving the chair into the far back corner of the office; his eyes hardened when he saw the condition his cousin was in. He knew it was a miracle she'd remained alive this long.

Snape smiled and moved his arm back and forth, brandishing his wand at both men. "Black, I might've known you'd come to join the party," he said from behind the desk. "Never could resist the chance to take me down."

"You could never resist being a sorry, slimy excuse for a wizard," Sirius responded. Keeping his eyes firmly trained on Snape, he began walking to his left, his wand at eye level.

Harry crept further into the office, sidling up behind the chair where Tonks was still tied up. He Vanished the ropes binding her to the chair and Tonks slumped to the floor in a bloody heap, too beaten to cry out as she made contact with the cold stone. As Snape had tortured her, her face had gradually gone back to its natural features, her hair became a light, mousy brown, her half-open eyes dark and dull. She was breathing, just barely, and appeared to be unconscious.

Quickly covering her with his Cloak, Harry pulled her as close to himself as he could and began sliding towards the door. A sharp pain in his head stopped him in mid-motion and he froze halfway to the door, staring through the Cloak at the snake curled beneath the desk. Harry knew he couldn't be seen, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking to look at the glowing red eyes that seemed to be following his movements. He watched the snake for a few seconds, then slowly began inching sideways again, staying low to avoid the spells he knew would begin flying across the room at any moment.

Dumbledore circled the office to the right, keeping his wand thrust forward as Snape began to step back. "You don't have to fight us on this, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You'll get a fair trial."

Snape laughed as he looked at the Minister. "Play your games with someone else. There's only one reason you came down here yourself with Potter's best friend."

"If this was about personal vendettas, I would have killed you already," Dumbledore responded. "Just put your wand down and we won't have to hurt you."

Snape responded by shooting another spell at the former Headmaster. It was blocked by Sirius as he edged closer to the desk. His eyes darted back and forth between the other two men.

"What does James have to do with this?" Sirius asked.

Snape chuckled. "Still keeping secrets, Dumbledore? You always had a talent for hiding things," he added, easily blocking a spell from Sirius. Seconds later, he levitated the desk to crash against a wall of the office and the orange and black snake unfurled itself, inching forward slowly and hissing into the sudden quietness of the office.

"Your dear friend Potter," Snape said, "was in my way." He smiled as Voldemort moved forward and Sirius shuffled back a couple of steps. "I removed the obstacle, just as I tried to take care of Potter's clone a few minutes ago. Pity you sent that little girl in here in his place." He smiled and raised his wand as Sirius glared. "If she survives, she can tell him about the quality time we spent together. That is, if I don't get to have some fun with him first."

"You won't lay a hand on Harry," Sirius said. He stepped back another step as the snake slithered forward a bit.

"Oh, are you going to save him the way you couldn't save his father?" Snape asked. He flicked his wand quickly and a sleeve of Sirius's shirt split open, allowing a small line of blood to show through on his arm. "I doubt very much if you'll be leaving this office alive, let alone saving the boy. As you can see," Snape began, stepping forward to where his desk had been, "I have a little more on my side than a meddling old man and an overly confident Auror. You think you can stop us?" He laughed again, the sound low and chilling. "You're going to die screaming. Just like Potter," he said slowly. "And I'm going to love every second of it."

"_Impedimenta_!" Sirius shouted just as Voldemort hissed and slid forward. The snake flew back and landed just behind Snape's feet. In quick succession, spells began flying back and forth across the room. Dumbledore sent the snake flying back again, a bright blue glow encasing it's body, while Sirius defended them both against the curses Snape was sending almost non-stop, nearly panting in the effort it took to block them.

Slashes appeared across his shirt again and Sirius screamed as a wad of flesh disappeared from his cheek and his face began bleeding profusely. Snape hit Dumbledore's wand hand with a spell and he lost concentration, allowing Voldemort to escape from the temporary bindings holding him at bay.

A deep ache began just behind his eyes and Sirius grabbed at his head, trying desperately to employ Occlumency to block the unwelcome invasion. Just as Snape raised his wand to cut Sirius again, a shout of "_Expelliarmus_!" came from the doorway and his wand slipped, only allowing him to cut his target across the chest. Dumbledore glanced briefly at the empty doorway before returning his attention to where the snake slithered forward across the floor, its red eyes locked with his.

As Voldemort moved closer, another shouted spell from the doorway stopped the snake in its tracks. It attempted to lunge forward again before Dumbledore sent it flying back with a flick of his wand. The body of the snake quickly became engulfed in flames.

With a scream, Snape moved to put out the flames, but it was too late. Where the snake had been lay only a few shreds of smoking carcass. "Who are you?" Snape asked. He aimed a spell at the doorway Harry had just vacated. "Is that you, Potter? Too afraid to face me like a man after skulking around behind my back these past weeks?" Snape blocked a spell from Sirius and began walking around the remains of the snake Voldemort had been, his eyes darting around the office in search of the unseen third person.

"Give up, Severus, or we will be forced to kill you," Dumbledore said quietly.

Instead of responding, Snape sent a quick series of spells back and forth between the two men, ducking when they blocked them and began sending curses back. Sirius took another cut across his face and Snape screamed seconds later, clutching the spot where Dumbledore had cursed his ear off. Snape turned to Dumbledore and aimed several curses at his legs, collapsing the older wizard to the ground, before turning to Sirius and sending one final slash across his throat, deep enough to send him to the floor of the office, clutching at his bleeding wound as blood flowed through his fingers.

Turning back to Dumbledore, Snape raised his wand and smiled slowly. Acting on instinct, Harry raised his wand and shouted the spell he'd been practicing in his head for days. He let the Invisibility Cloak drop to the floor and repeated the incantation, stepping forward as his stepfather acknowledged his presence by raising his hand and blasting a spell in Harry's direction. He sent the teenager flying against the back wall. Harry fell to the floor screaming as waves of pain rippled through his body.

"Good of you to face your death like the man your father never was, Potter," Snape said. "It's too bad your little attempt at turning the tables wasn't—" He stopped suddenly and coughed. Then he coughed again, this time with a small measure of blood bursting from his lips.

His own screams joined his coughs as Snape dropped his wand, clutching his stomach when smoke began to emit from his midsection. Soon, flames began to eat their way out of his torso and he stumbled about the office, shooting the others a pleading look before sinking to his knees, screaming in pain and then choking as blood flowed from his lips and down the front of his quickly darkening robes.

Sirius sat up from the floor, one hand still touching the wound Dumbledore had haphazardly healed for him before turning his attentions to Harry. Sirius looked at the man suffering before him in alarm. "Is that—Harry, that's not fiendfyre, is it?" At Harry's nod, he lifted his wand. "We've got to put it out."

Harry, surprised by his godfather's merciful instinct, lurched forward from his position on the floor, grabbing his wrist before Sirius could perform the required spell. "That man killed my father," he said, his words carrying to his godfather just above the sound of Snape's screams.

Sirius turned to him, realization and a measure of contempt filling his face. He lowered his wand. They watched in silence as their common foe was consumed by the cursed flames, screaming in agony until his vocal chords were eaten up by the quickly moving flames. When the fire started to spread, Harry and Sirius backed out of the room holding each other up, leaving Dumbledore to put out the fire before it could spread beyond the dungeon office.

Just as they reached the ground floor, Harry fell from his godfather's hold and onto the cold stone of the Entrance Hall, pain he had scarcely imagined possible consuming his body. He began screaming.

"Harry?" Sirius kneeled next to him, putting his arms around his godson as Dumbledore came up the stairs behind them. "Harry, what—?" Sirius looked at Dumbledore for help as he lowered Tonks to the floor next to the stairs. Quickly, the Minister cast a charm on the door to the Great Hall, preventing everyone inside from hearing the commotion.

Dumbledore kneeled next to the screaming teenager, his normally calm eyes clouded with confusion and worry. "I thought Severus had only used the Cruciatus Curse. The effects of the spell should have worn off as soon as he died. We have to get them both to St. Mungo's as soon as we can."

Sirius nodded. He glanced back and forth between his cousin and godson, tears filling his eyes. "How long have you known what he did to James?"

Dumbledore looked up from where he'd been attempting to make Harry more comfortable. There was a brief hint of pain in the light blue eyes before he returned his gaze to the agonized boy on the floor. He whispered a spell and Harry fell into a deep sleep. Dumbledore looked up at Sirius, his eyes expressionless.

"I was certain several days ago," he said. "I never suspected Severus of any wrongdoing before these past few days," he said, the lie coming out easily once he'd begun it. Before Sirius could question him further, several shrieks carried down the hall. Hermione led the charge, just beating Lily, Raven, Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt to where the men kneeled on the floor. Raven joined Hermione on the floor next to her brother, tears streaming down her face as she took in Harry's unconscious form.

"Albus?" McGonagall asked. "What happened? Has it ended?"

"Harry!" Lily dropped to her knees and grabbed Harry by his shirt, pulling her son's head into her lap. Frightened eyes looked first at Sirius, then Dumbledore. "Are they…?"

"They are severely injured, but still alive," Dumbledore said. "We must get them to St. Mungo's immediately." He turned to Kingsley. "There's a mess waiting in the dungeons. As soon as we get them to the hospital, I'll need you to return and secure the area. Where's Robards?"

Kingsley shook his head, his eyes casting away from the other man's face. Dumbledore swore softly. "She's gone," he said as he examined Tonks. "There are people searching all over the Ministry, but no one's seen her for at least an hour."

"Professor Lestrange is gone?" Hermione asked in a soft voice.

"What do you mean there's a mess in the dungeons?" McGonagall asked. As Dumbledore's gaze met hers, she gasped, turning to Lily as both women caught his meaning.

Lily glanced briefly at her daughter. "But, I thought you were just going to—"

"Harry saved our lives," Sirius said quietly.

Hermione's eyes shot to him before going to McGonagall and back down to Harry. Her mouth pulled down in a deep frown, dozens of questions whirring through her head but remaining unasked.

Kingsley began to levitate Tonks. Dumbledore pulled himself upwards until he was standing.

"I need a full explanation of what's happened," Lily said as McGonagall began to levitate her son. Raven wrapped her arms around her mother and turned her face into her robes, tears coursing down her cheeks silently.

Dumbledore nodded as they followed the Headmistress and Auror to the stairs. "I think we could all do with an assessment of all that's taken place today. First, let us count our blessings—the majority of us are left alive. There is plenty of time to deal with everything else."


	45. Redefining Relationships

A long while after leaving the dungeons, Harry awoke to the feel of soft fingers stroking the side of his face. His forehead puckered briefly and then he opened his eyes. Harry squinted against the sudden onslaught of light then smiled when his eyes adjusted and he saw Hermione. She offered him a smile of her own. Her fingers moved to his hair and she leaned forward to plant a kiss on his forehead.

"Welcome back," she whispered.

Harry looked around the room briefly. From what he remembered before falling unconscious, it was no wonder he was in St. Mungo's. He shifted on the bed and plucked at the stark white sheet tucked around his body. "How long have I been here?"

"Two days." Hermione glanced over her shoulder. The light blue curtain separating Harry's bed from the other side of the room remained unmoved. Harry couldn't hear anything beyond it. Hermione turned back to him and took his hand. "You were in a lot of pain and they had to keep you knocked out."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. "The pain I remember," he said. He opened his eyes and smiled again as a thought came to him. "I can't wait to get out of here."

"Why is that?" she asked.

He smirked and raised one hand to beckon her closer. "I want to celebrate my return to health properly," he whispered. He slipped his hand to her neck and pulled her down until her lips connected with his. Kissing her made Harry feel more alive—well, certainly more alive than he'd been in the past few days. It was such a relief that everything had been dealt with, that he'd gotten what he wanted, he was finally ready to live the life he'd created by changing his past. If Hermione's smile when he released her was any indication, she was more than ready for his full change of heart as well.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" she whispered in a haltering voice.

            Harry blushed as he said, "The minute we can be alone for more than a few minutes, I'll show you how happy I am things turned out this way. Though with everything that's happened, I don't know when that will be. I can't imagine what's going on at Hogwarts right now."

Hermione looked away from him for a second before moving to lean on the bed, her head resting next to Harry's pillow. Clasping his hand in hers, she said, "There's a lot you've missed."

"Tonks." Harry attempted to sit up and immediately fell back into the pillow as a headache began just behind his eyes. "I feel so stupid. I should've asked about her as soon as I woke up."

"Don't feel bad, Harry. You've gone through a lot yourself," Hermione said. "The Healers think she'll recover from her injuries in time. They're not really sure…a few of the curses he used on her…" She stopped again and sighed. "They've never seen anything like her injuries. None of the curses were as bad as the Senium Curse, but they can't tell if her injuries are permanent yet."

"She could be dying because of me?"

Recognizing Harry's immediate reaction to start blaming himself, Hermione squeezed his hand and turned to kiss him on the cheek. "She's not dying. But, there are some complications that may take longer to recover from than normal battle scars. Voldemort was doing something to her mind…it's all still up in the air," Hermione said. "They're trying to see if they can use the potion to come up with a permanent solution for her."

Harry said nothing as she attempted to reassure him. He knew where the blame lay if Tonks couldn't recover, even if Snape and Voldemort had been the ones to torture her. He could've insisted that Professor McGonagall allow him to get involved. He could've waited for Snape in the dungeons instead of going to the Headmistress's office with Hermione. It was too late to worry about it now. He knew better than to wish he could go back and change anything in his past.

"How's my mum been?"

At this, Hermione sat up and squeezed his hand. "Professor McGonagall and the Minister sat her and your godfather down and told them the whole story."

"Everything?" Harry asked. "I thought they felt it all might be too much to hear at once."

"She insisted," Hermione said. "After they told her everything that had happened since school started, she asked a few more questions. About your scar. Why you seemed…different when she talked to you. Why you were acting strangely around Raven." She shrugged. "They couldn't very well say nothing."

"She knows I saved her life?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "She also knows how her sister and brother-in-law treated you and the basics of what happened when you came to Hogwarts," Hermione said. "There really wasn't time to go into a lot of detail, but she understands why you changed your past."

Harry frowned. "Did she say that? How does she feel about it?"

"I—" Hermione stopped herself and squeezed Harry's hand again. "You should really talk to her about it."

"Hermione." At his wide-eyed look, she turned away.

"Harry, I can't." Turning back, she lowered her eyes from his gaze and chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds. Harry squeezed her hand and whispered her name again. Hermione sighed. "I think she's taking it hard. She—you saw how she was after we told her about Professor Snape. Since he…now that he's gone and she's found all this out, she's been so quiet. She's been staying with Sirius and as far as I know, she doesn't really say much to anyone when she visits you both—"

"Both?" Harry attempted to sit up again and winced at the pain shooting through his head. "Wait, am I on the other side of that curtain?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes darting to the barrier again. "The Minister felt it would be easier to keep your location a secret if you're in the same room."

"Why would he need to keep my location a secret? It's over. I saw to that."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at his choice of words. "Professor Lestrange killed an Auror and escaped sometime Saturday afternoon. She hasn't been seen since she left the Ministry. The Minister feels like she might come after you again for…ending their plans. That was one of the things Tonks found in her memories before she impersonated her. She and Professor Snape both blamed you for their plans being stalled."

"If she's going to come after me, wouldn't it make more sense to make it obvious where I am? She'll most certainly try and then they can arrest her."

"Or you can help if she's not arrested?" Hermione asked.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Hermione, we talked about this. I told you I wouldn't get involved in the dungeons unless I felt I had to. You didn't see Tonks tied up in that office. You didn't see what he did to Sirius and Dumbledore."

"You saved their lives," Hermione said. "They told us everything you did."

"Then why are you acting so horrified by what happened?"

"You don't think it's horrible that you killed someone?" Hermione dropped his hand. The unspoken accusation hung in the air between them. That Snape's death wasn't a matter of defense so much as a planned execution. "I know what he did was bad, but—" She stopped at Harry's frown. "It's done now and I'm glad you survived it, but I wish you hadn't felt you had to do it."

"I wish he hadn't gotten so close to getting away. I would have preferred he confess everything in open court so my mother could hear," Harry said. "I hate thinking that she might still blame me for what happened or think this might still be part of some kind of personal grudge against Snape."

"I never believed you didn't have genuine reason to dislike him," Lily said.

Harry looked up to find his mother standing at the edge of the curtain, a small frown on her face. She looked tired and, Harry would swear, like she'd aged a decade since he'd last seen her in Professor McGonagall's office. Her eyes were slightly red and glassy, her face wearing every bit of worry and strain she'd had heaped on her since the previous Saturday. She pulled a worn brown sweater tight around her midsection and it was then Harry noticed she seemed smaller somehow, as if the loss of her second husband and the illusions she had to bury with him had deflated her. Lily briefly attempted a smile for her son before abandoning the pretense and stepping closer to the bed, waving in deference to Hermione as the girl stood to offer her a seat.

"You don't need to leave, sweetie. I just wanted to look in on Harry for a minute."

"You're not going to stay?" Harry asked. He watched her attempt another smile as she stopped next to him. Hermione stood and motioned Lily into her seat at Harry's bedside.

"I—" She glanced at Hermione. "You've been through so much, I thought you'd want to catch up." Lily turned back to him and placed a hand on the bed. She began playing with a loose thread on the edge of the white sheet. "Besides, you need your rest. Especially considering all that's been going on. You'll probably be able to go back tomorrow."

Harry frowned. "I'm never going back. I did this to have a life with you."

"I don't mean…you'll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow," Lily said. "The Healers said as soon as you woke and felt all right, you'd be able to attend classes again."

"Wait," Harry said. He pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the pain thundering behind his eyes. "You're staying with Sirius right now, aren't you? Don't you want me with you?"

Her mouth trembled on the verge of an answer and Lily stopped, swallowing hard before she said, "You really should be in school, Harry. A lot has happened and the best thing is for you to get back to a normal routine."

"None of this has been normal," he responded. "Damn it, look at me!"

Startled, she looked up at her now angry son. "Harry, don't talk to me—"

"How can I not talk to you like that? You can't even look me in the eye," he said. Harry grabbed his mother's hand from the bed and brought it to his forehead. Her fingers curled against the distended flesh of his scar. "Somewhere, there was once a version of you that loved me enough to die for me and you can't bring yourself to look at me?" Harry dropped her hand and watched her pull it back quickly, tucking it under the opposite arm at her side. She rocked in the chair, staring at the floor.

"Did what happened make you stop loving me?" he asked, his voice choking on the last words. Harry cleared his throat. "If I hadn't done something, he would've killed everyone in that room. He wouldn't have hesitated to hurt me if it would've gotten him what he wanted. Or would you have preferred if he'd been the only person to leave that room alive?"

"Of course not," Lily responded.

"Then what's wrong?" Harry asked. Tears stung his eyes and he wiped at them frantically with the heels of his hands. "Why are you acting like you don't even know me anymore?"

"I don't know you," she whispered, finally raising her eyes to look at her son. "I loved you and I protected you and I wanted the best for you, but you are not the boy I raised." Lily leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at a spot on the wall beyond Harry's head. "I don't know how you can expect me to act like nothing's happened."

"I don't expect that. I do expect you to be my mother," he said. "If you can."

"Hermione."

They both looked over as the drawn-out whisper carried across the hospital room. Hermione jumped and swiveled to face the blue curtain, her eyes darting back and forth between the boy in the bed before her and the curtain. After a few more seconds, she gave Harry a guilty glance and went to the other side of the room. He heard her murmuring softly before that side of the room became silent once again.

"I'm sorry."

Harry looked away from the curtain at his mother's whisper. Reaching over, he took her hand in his again. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

"Yes, there is," Lily said. "I should've believed you when you said something was wrong with him. Both…both of you told me and I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to think you were just angry at him, angry at everyone because we wouldn't live our lives the way you wanted." She looked up at her son, tears coursing freely down her face. "I didn't want to have to choose between the two of you." She let out a sob when Harry squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry because if you had asked, I'm not sure which one of you I would have chosen."

Her last words were barely audible, but the full meaning of them felt like a stab in the heart. Harry wanted to pull away from his mother then, to pull back into himself and pretend like the hurt he was experiencing hadn't come from the woman who gave him life and was now looking at him like a stranger who had taken all joy from hers. He wanted to crawl inside himself and take on all the pain Tonks had endured on his behalf because that—_anything_—had to feel better than the certainty that his mother, this version of her, didn't love him. Oh, but she cared for him very deeply; he could tell from the guilt in her eyes. But, would this Lily Evans Potter Snape have died for love of her son?

Rather than let his mind answer that question, Harry tugged on his mother's hand until she came into his arms, pulling her into an awkward hug that ended when Sirius Black entered the room behind her.

"I was hoping you'd come here, Lily," he said as Harry released his mother. "I was about to send out a search party."

"Sorry." She sat back and pulled the sweater tight again, pressing her lips into a thin line as she regarded her son.

One hand drifted lazily to Lily's shoulder. "Don't apologize. I know how worried you've been about Harry." Sirius turned to his godson. "We all were. How are you feeling?"

Harry nodded, watching as his mother leaned into Sirius's side and his hand went to rest on top of her hair. "Better than I was the last time I saw you. What did he do to me?"

Sirius cleared his throat and his eyes drifted away from Harry's face for a few seconds as he contemplated his answer. "The Minister wants to discuss that with you." He grinned and Harry tried to ignore the obvious falseness of the gesture. "I know it's not really manly to bring flowers, so I brought these." He held out a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I hope they're okay."  
"Oh, these are great," Harry said. He grabbed the bag and pulled the top open. "I love these."

"I know," Sirius said. "Used to eat them for dinner every chance you got."

Lily looked up at him sharply. "Harry has never eaten Bertie Bott's for dinner."

His godfather grinned. "Did when I used to baby-sit. I figured, what you didn't know wouldn't hurt."

"I mean, _he_ never—" She stopped and cleared her throat. "You never kept Harry overnight. James would've given you hell if he'd known you gave our son sugar before you dropped him back at home."

"It was James's idea," Sirius said. He held up both hands in a defensive gesture. "I swear it. He said mixing one pickle with two grape marmalades and one asphalt could get Harry to do everything from taking a bath to picking up his toys without so much as one protest." He turned to Harry. "It was the nuttiest thing I'd ever heard, but your dad was always right when it came to that kind of thing."

Harry smiled and turned the candy bag in his hands as he searched for a pickle-flavored one. "I wish I'd known him," he said.

"I wish you'd gotten a chance to meet him too," Sirius responded, his voice soft.

"Can you take me back now?" Lily asked. She stood from the bedside and clasped Sirius's hand. "I think I need to lay down."

"But Lily, you haven't been here very long." Sirius turned to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "You need to talk to him," he whispered.

"It's all right," Harry said. "She can always come visit me at school. If she can bring herself to do it."

Huffing air through tight lips, Lily released Sirius's hand and brushed past the blue curtain.

"You'll have to give her time," Sirius said. He turned back to the bed. "She has to process everything that's happened."

"You mean she has to decide if she loves me enough to not blame me for any of it," Harry said. He swiped at his tears again and popped a couple of pieces of candy into his mouth. The pickle and grape marmalade weren't bad together, he decided. He looked up at his startled godfather. "I'm not stupid. She can't even stand to be in a room with me, not while I'm awake, at least."

Sirius shuffled back and forth from one foot to another before finally settling in the chair next to the bed. "That's not it, Harry. She loves you and your sister more than her own life."

Harry snorted.

"She does. But she's just lost. However I felt about Snape when we were in school and after everything we've just found out, she loved him. When she lost your dad—"

"Because of Snape," Harry interrupted.

"She didn't know what to do with herself," Sirius continued. "She shut down, could barely take of herself, let alone you. I couldn't help her. She said being around me, even on the good days when she wasn't in bed all day crying, she felt like I was a constant reminder of what she'd lost. She felt the same thing about Remus Lupin and a few of our other school friends. On the other hand, relatively few of her favorite memories of James were connected to Snape."

"Because they hated each other. With good reason," Harry added. Before Sirius could comment, he said, "I know my dad was a bully. And you helped him."

Sirius looked at his godson for a few moments in silence. "I'm going to have to get used to you too," he whispered. "Yes, we bullied him. We behaved stupidly for a number of years. It was pointless and, what's more, it helped him become the person he became."

"You're not to blame for him being a monster," Harry said.

"No, but he might not have gone after your father if we'd ever gone easy on him," Sirius said. "I never blamed myself for what happened to your father; how could I? But, knowing what I know now, I have to think what we did to Snape made him worse than he might have turned out otherwise. Your mum is going through something similar. Some part of her thinks because she chose James even after she witnessed the way he treated Snape, he acted out his hatred in the worst way possible. What you said to her the other day didn't help."

Harry dropped the half-empty bag of candy onto the bed. "I never blamed her for what happened to Dad. I never said that."

Sirius shook his head. "No, but you didn't have to. She found a thousand reasons to blame herself when he died—everything from not finding his symptoms suspicious earlier to possibly exposing him to something by accident. When you….when you said Snape poisoned James so he could have her, she found the excuse she'd been trying to pin on herself for ten years."

Harry fell back against the pillow. "I never meant for her to feel that way. I never…I wanted…she has to understand that no one is to blame but him." Harry pushed the sheet aside, sending the candy and bag tumbling to the floor. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed. "I have to tell her. She has to understand. If that's why she hates me now—"

"She doesn't hate you," Sirius corrected. "As odd as it may seem for you, she sees you as little bit of a stranger." He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "She loves you. Never mistake that. But, it's going to take a lot more than a few days for all of you to feel like anything resembling a normal family again. You have to give her time. Not only to process everything you went through to get here, but also to forgive herself for not believing in you." Sirius paused. "And she has to grieve for him."

He put up a hand to stop Harry's next words. "I know. It's difficult to understand. But some part of her did love him and he had to have earned at least a little of it. He may have caused her pain in ways she can't even think about right now, but he also supported her through the hardest thing she ever had to deal with. They had been friends since childhood, shared a life for a long while and they have a daughter. You have to respect that she's not going to share your hatred of him. Not completely. There may always be a part of her that loves him, if for Raven's sake than nothing else."

Harry shook his head and edged closer to the side of the bed. "What if she…she deals with everything in her own mind and then decides she wants nothing to do with me? I look like my father and I did something that allowed his killer to take advantage of her. What if she decides she hates me after all?"

"She will never do that," Sirius assured him. "As confused as your mother is right now, she will never turn her back on you." He stood and raised his wand to clean up the spilled candy. "I'll bring you another bag later. You should get back into bed until the Healers have cleared you."

"I want to talk to my mother again," Harry said. "I have to get her to understand." He slid to the edge of the bed and would have stood up if Sirius hadn't held him in place, keeping a firm grim on his shoulder until he stopped trying to move.

"The stubbornness of both your parents combined," he commented. "I'll go outside and speak with your mother, get her to give you a proper goodbye."

"Force her to pretend," Harry commented.

Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry for all the things that have happened to make you so bitter, but this is one time when you can't be impatient. Your mother loves you…and so do I and a number of other people. Give it time to sort itself out."

Sirius was halfway to the curtain before Harry called out, "Can you tell me how Tonks is doing?" When Sirius stopped in place and turned, another forced smile on his face, Harry cursed himself for not asking sooner.

"She's…better than she was. There's really no way of knowing when she'll completely recover, but that potion the Healers gave her…" He smiled. "You and Hermione helped uncover that, right?" Harry nodded. "It's done a lot the past couple of days. You helped saved her. And me, for that matter. Thank you."

Before Harry could respond, his godfather disappeared behind the curtain and he was left to his own dark thoughts, blaming himself for the death of everything his mother held dear—including the eventual loss of the son she clearly preferred to him.


	46. Beginning Again

Hermione held Harry tight as sobs shook his body. She'd lost track of how long they sat on the bed together, his emotions having temporarily disabled his ability to speak. In the time Hermione had been absent from his bedside, Lily and Sirius had come and gone, Harry had changed out of the hospital gown and into his clothes and then began tearing apart his side of the room, breaking the only chair and screaming until Hermione had come to him. He'd immediately succumbed to tears in her arms, unable to say anything about what had happened and unable to let her go as he lost control.

Hermione had only heard a little of what his mother said to him, but she knew the rest of it had to have been devastating for Harry to break down as if the world was coming to an end. For him, she supposed, it was. If his mother wasn't fully in his corner, what did he have, really? He had her, and for now, that would have to be enough.

Harry pulled away from her embrace and swiped at his eyes quickly with the heels of his palms. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick. "I don't usually get—" He stopped, sniffling as he thought of the way his mother had avoiding looking at him. Harry held his elbows in either hand and hugged himself, hoping to stop the shaking in both limbs. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered.

Hermione began running her fingers over his hair. "Shh, Harry. Don't apologize. If anything, I should apologize for leaving you on your own for so long." Her eyes shifted briefly to the curtain before drifting downward to the space separating them on the hospital bed.

He swallowed hard. "I…did something happen over there?"

"No," she said after a moment. "Nothing you should worry about. Silencing charms and sedatives wore off about the same time. Then I fell asleep," Hermione added. At Harry's questioning look, she said, "I haven't left since Saturday."

"You should. To get rest, I mean," he said, uncertainty making his voice shake slightly.

"No, you need me here," Hermione said. She took his hand in hers. His skin was cool to the touch and he was still shaking as she laced her fingers through his.

"What if I insist?" Taking a deep breath, he forced up one corner of his mouth into a small smile. "You don't have to baby-sit me."

Hermione smiled back. "If Professor McGonagall, the Minister and your—" she blinked and looked down at their joined hands, "and everyone else who tried couldn't convince me, what makes you think you can?"

Two fingers on her chin turned her face towards his. "I have a stronger method of persuasion." His lips were only on hers a few seconds before he pulled away again, wiping at an unexpected renewal of his tears. Suddenly, Harry screamed out into the room, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Hermione put her arm around him. He struggled to push her away for a few seconds and then leaned onto her, sobbing uncontrollably for the second time that day. Through his crying, she was able to make out the words, "I wish I could make it stop, just for a little bit. I don't want to think about what she said. I don't want to feel like this anymore."

"I could get you a Calming Draught," Hermione suggested. Her mind made up, she started to stand. A tug on her hand stopped her.

"Please don't leave me," Harry whispered. His voice came out thin and soft in a way that sounded pathetic to his own ears. But he couldn't help pleading for her just then, suddenly realizing the last thing he wanted was someone he knew loved him to leave him alone. He couldn't stand it just then.

Hermione nodded. "H-how about if I try a Cheering Charm?" He nodded and sat stiffly as she pulled out her wand and performed the incantation. Harry wiped at a tear quickly, sighing as his body-shaking sobs slowly receded. Tears still fell silently, but he was clearly more in control of his emotions than he had been a minute before.

"I don't think I…well…I'm not sure I did it the way I'm supposed to. It wasn't strong enough," Hermione said. "You're still…" She motioned to his tear-streaked face. Hermione raised her trembling arm to attempt the charm again. Harry stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

"It's fine," he said. "I feel a little bit better. Besides, there really isn't a charm to heal a broken heart, is there?"

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione breathed just before he kissed her again, attempting to lose himself, if only for a little while. This time, it did not end with Harry dissolving in hysterical tears, but with Dumbledore discreetly clearing his throat from the edge of the curtain. The teenagers slowly separated.

Harry nodded in greeting to the Minister.

Dumbledore approached the bed slowly, the soft swish of his dark blue robes the only sound in the room accompanying Harry's small sniffles. The Minister repaired and sat in the chair next to the bed, his eyes somber as he looked at Harry and Hermione.

"Perhaps it would be best if we spoke alone, Mr. Potter," he began.

Harry squeezed Hermione tighter and shook his head silently.

"Very well," Dumbledore responded. "I want to thank you for your assistance the other day. I had not anticipated…well, that Voldemort would have a presence in the dungeons. By the same token, your actions may have consequences you may not understand."

"He deserved it," Harry said. He felt Hermione stiffen next to him. His scar started to tingle and he rubbed at it absently. "If you're here to take me off to Azkaban—"

"No," Dumbledore said. He lowered his gaze briefly before looking into Harry's eyes again. "I do not believe imprisonment is the appropriate recourse. When I spoke to you last week, I told you I believe Voldemort will keep coming after Neville until there is an end for one of them."

"I killed him," Harry said. "You said I might still have the power to do that and I did."

"Not entirely," Dumbledore responded. "I do not doubt that your actions delayed his return, but there are a number of reasons to believe he is nowhere near reaching his end."

Harry eyed the older wizard and frowned. After the hell he'd been through—the hell everyone had gone through—did he seriously expect Harry to believe it wasn't over?

"I know you don't want to believe this, Harry, but as I said before, the solution to this…dilemma will not be a simple one."

_Dilemma?_ Harry thought. _A simple word to describe a crazed killer marking you for death at his hands_. "So, if killing Voldemort doesn't result in his death, then what will?" Harry asked, his voice incredulous. He let go of Hermione and stood from the bed, moving quickly to stand over Dumbledore. "Why can't you just be straight with me?" He flexed the fingers of one hand, wishing suddenly he had his wand.

Hermione gasped and moved to stand next to him, tugging him back by one arm. "Harry, what are you doing? Of course he's being honest with you. He wants to keep you safe."

He turned to her. "How do I know that?" Harry turned back to the Minister. "What proof do you have that he's still out there somewhere? I _saw_ him die. I set that bloody snake on fire and you want me to believe he could still come after Neville or me?" His voice had risen high enough to be heard down the hall, but Harry was beyond caring. When he considered how many times he could've died over the past few years—or even the past couple of weeks—because the man before him knew more than he was saying, the last thing he wanted to do was pretend like he believed every word coming out of Dumbledore's mouth.

Leaning back in the chair and speaking calmly, Dumbledore said, "He did not die last Saturday, despite your best efforts."

"You're lying," Harry said flatly.

"Harry, listen to him."

He turned to Hermione again, backing away a couple of steps when she reached for him. "We talked about this, Hermione. You know why I can't believe him. Who's side are you on?"

"I'm on your side," she said. "I'm always on your side, but please just listen to him for a few minutes."

"I know why you feel you can't trust me," the Minister said. As the teenager turned back to him, he added, "You do recall my telling you, you are not as difficult to read as you might believe."

"I don't care what you think you know about me," Harry said, anger making him temporarily forget his pain. "You can't sit there and tell me everything I did was for nothing and expect me to accept that on your say-so."

"I will be able to provide proof. In time," Dumbledore said.

Harry knew then, if he thought he could get away with it, he would strike the man in front of him. If only to wipe that all-knowing expression from the twinkling eyes.

"Before Saturday, I had been afraid of what Severus and Bellatrix Lestrange were doing to restore Voldemort to power. When I was notified of the unusual attack you and Mr. Longbottom suffered in class, and the discovery of a unicorn dead from snake bites several days later, I formed a theory as to the exact nature of their plan and how they hoped to accomplish it."

Harry considered interrupting at this point, weary of what he thought might be another pointless conversation to lead him away from what he really needed to know. Glancing at Hermione, he changed his mind. She looked frustrated, tired and, he hated to realize, as scared as he'd been when he'd first heard the entirety of the prophecy. On the off chance it might not be truly over, he had to at least listen. Even if he didn't think the older wizard was likely to tell him the whole truth.

Wordlessly, Harry sat on the bed. He reached for Hermione and she moved next to him. She pulled him close to her side and began rubbing his back as they both prepared to listen to the rest of the explanation. Harry nodded for Dumbledore to continue.

"Through my research, I found out Voldemort had asked a great many questions of one of his professors at Hogwarts relating to how one could…extend life, or become immortal."

"Like with the Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "It is protected, as are similar, less effective methods. There is one method Voldemort asked about during his time at school that concerns me now. He asked about the creation of Horcruxes." Before Hermione could ask another question, he said, "A Horcrux is used to store a portion of someone's soul. The wizard who can successfully create one cannot be killed as long as the object in question is safe."

"Is that why you had notes on Soul Division Theory?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "When I first began hearing rumors that Voldemort was still alive after killing the Longbottoms, I attempted to discover how it could be possible that he had survived that night and what would make it possible for him to become human again."

"If he only made one Horcrux, shouldn't what happened Saturday have killed him?" Harry asked.

"It is possible, though not likely, that Voldemort made as many as seven."

"Seven!" Hermione exclaimed. "Wouldn't that mean it could take years to kill him?"

"Is that what you're saying?" Harry asked. "That we could truly be doing this for decades?" Harry thought back to their conversation several days previous when he'd asked the Minister if the fight could go on for years and he'd responded by changing the subject. Now, Harry knew why.

"I am saying that he sought to create what he considered a powerful number so, even if he could not last in his physical body, one of his supporters would always be able to bring him back. When Auror Shacklebolt went through what was left of Professor Snape's office and desk, he discovered the remains of a book. I believe it was the diary you remember possessing Ginny Weasley your second year at Hogwarts."

"It wasn't just his memory," Harry stated.

Dumbledore shook his head. "A mere memory of someone could not cause such physical damage and take over the life of a living person. Tom Riddle was sixteen when he created that Horcrux and I believe it was his first, though obviously not his last."

"How many are there exactly?" Harry asked. "How many have to be destroyed before he'll stop coming after Neville?"

"The answer to that question is somewhat…troublesome," Dumbledore said. "I have destroyed two. The remains of another caged snake were found in the back of Professor Snape's office, also dead from the fire—that would be two more as of Saturday."

"Why didn't the other snake attack us?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore paused. "I believe the one we encountered was acting as Voldemort's conscious mind, the other was merely a storage unit for that portion of his soul. He may not have had a strong enough connection to it to use it as a second method of attack," he said.

Harry narrowed his eyes on the older wizard's face. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was unusual about that explanation, but he said nothing as Dumbledore continued.

"During the course of Auror Shacklebolt's search, he also discovered that someone had been in Professor Lestrange's office Saturday, after she had escaped from the Ministry. There is no trace, anywhere in Hogwarts, of the notes I had created on Voldemort's possible transformations. A spell was used to open a drawer in Professor Lestrange's desk and someone used her Floo Network connection. With Lucius Malfoy imprisoned, Bellatrix Lestrange is our only suspect."

"You think she came to the school to retrieve another Horcrux and your notes," Harry whispered. "You think she's still going to bring him back."

"But, Professor McGonagall still has the Key in her office. If she can't find the ingredients or figure out the spell to do it on her own, he shouldn't be able to come back, right?" Hermione asked. Harry wished suddenly he could feel half the hopefulness he could hear in her voice, but one look at the Minister's face told him any hopeful thoughts would be pointless.

"That may not be the only way to bring him back, merely the one I deduced the most likely to be successful," Dumbledore said. "What worries me more than the knowledge that she has my notes and a Horcrux in her possession, is the effect it may have on you and Mr. Longbottom," he said to Harry. "When you collapsed in class, it is possible that event coincided with a portion of Voldemort's soul being extracted from the diary."

"Why would that affect me at all?"

Dumbledore looked away from him then, his mouth turned down into a deep frown. "I do not wish to worry you unnecessarily."

"It's too late for that," Harry said. "What are you not telling me?"

"The way your parents were killed was…unusual, to say the least. A Horcrux is created by two actions. There is a very complicated spell needed to attach a portion of the soul to an object, but the soul itself must first be split." He paused. "A soul splits after the commission of a murder."

"That means Voldemort killed someone when he was attending Hogwarts," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. "That is not of consequence now, Harry. What concerns me, and should concern you and Neville, is what happened when he killed your parents. The human soul is fragile. If Voldemort created seven Horcruxes—indeed, knowing he created at least five—it is possible his soul was so fractured, so unstable at the time of the Longbottoms's murders, he may have inadvertently created a situation he hadn't planned for."

"What? No."

Harry turned to Hermione, confusion etched in his features. "What?" Her mouth had dropped open after her exclamation and she sat staring at the Minister, shaking her head. Harry turned back to face him. "What have I missed?"

Dumbledore's eyes dropped again and he frowned as he delivered a portion of his theory. "There is a possibility the reason you were so affected by the extraction a week ago is because you, and Neville, have a…connection with Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"What kind of connection?" Harry asked. Glancing at Hermione again, he still felt as if he were missing a large part of the conversation.

"You—" The Minister stopped and looked away from him briefly. "It is possible the transference of his powers allows for you to…feel a connection with them that no one else has. It is difficult to identify the exact nature of this bond."

"Is that why I was in so much pain after we left the dungeon Saturday?" Harry asked. "I don't remember much of it, but after the snake died, it hurt so badly I….I wasn't sure what kind of spell Snape had hit me with. I can't even remember when the pain started, exactly. You're saying what I felt might have been related to Voldemort instead?"

"We can come back."

Harry looked up, startled when his mother had spoken. Sirius stood at her side, holding her hand as they took in the scene before them. Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I want you to stay," he said. He smiled at Lily and motioned her towards the bed.

"Harry," Dumbledore began.

She shook her head. "We'll wait outside," Lily said. She stepped back quickly and brushed past the curtain. After an uncertain look in Harry's direction, Sirius nodded and left as well.

Harry frowned. He hoped she hadn't changed her mind about whatever she had planned to say to him. More than that, he hoped he had mistaken what she'd been saying to him earlier. He couldn't worry about that now. As Hermione took his hand, he returned his attentions to the Minister. "How am I supposed to be connected to this? It sounds like something that would be difficult to prove."

"Your scar," he responded. "Our world never saw anything like it before the Longbottoms were attacked. I've asked Mr. Longbottom about any issues he has had with his in the past. The information I gathered, along with that gleaned from your own memories, leads me to believe you may both share this connection with Voldemort. As long as a part of his soul survives somewhere, he cannot be killed and you may be affected in some way when something happens with the remaining pieces of his soul."

"This is completely mental," Harry said.

"Would it be possible to remove or block their connection, whatever it is?" Hermione asked. "After what happened in class, I don't want to see Harry collapse like that again. It would be worse if Professor Lestrange was attempting to put You-Know-Who into a body again, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I cannot say exactly what will happen, but if your collapse last week is any indication, it could cause you a great deal of pain or something else entirely. This is all merely a theory, of course."

"Of course," Harry responded. "And you think there are three more Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing, as of yet," the Minister said. "Continue living your normal life at school. Your mother suggests waiting until we find out where Bellatrix Lestrange is and if she is indeed going to continue the plan."

"You've told my mother about this?"

"I informed her yesterday. She is convinced that as long as you remain in school, the protections there will be enough to keep you safe until we can determine if my theory has merit. We'll have to run a series of tests—"

"Why can't you run them now?" Harry asked. "How can you tell me something like this and not know for sure if it's true?"

"I am telling you because it is one of several concerns I have after the events Saturday afternoon. Another relates to your actions towards your stepfather."

Harry sighed. "I thought we'd been over this."

The Minister's eyes narrowed on his face. "I am well aware of your feelings on the matter, Mr. Potter. Unfortunately for you, there is more at stake here than my opinion of your form of revenge. The life you took—"

"The life he didn't deserve," Harry interrupted.

"The life you took," Dumbledore continued, "may have resulted in unfortunate personal consequences."

"I don't care," Harry said, cutting off what Dumbledore was going to say. "I did what I had to do. You were there. You know that. I saved you. You and Sirius and Tonks."

The Minister nodded. "Yes. With an action you had been planning several days in advance," he said.

Harry looked at Hermione. Without a word passing between them, he could hear her rebuking him repeatedly over the latter half of the previous week, begging him not to use the potion he'd brewed, pleading that he be patient and wait for the Ministry to take action.

"You don't know what I had been planning," he said, turning back. "Does it matter as long as everyone is safe now?"

The Minister frowned at Harry's brusque tone, but said nothing for a few long moments. "That remains to be seen," he said finally, his expression unreadable. "I'm going to need your memory of everything that happened from the time Miss Granger left you in the dungeons until Professor Snape died."

Harry glanced at Hermione briefly, then in the direction of the curtain and room door, beyond which Sirius and his mother waited.

'This is just for my evaluation, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I will not show it to your mother."

As Harry nodded, Hermione stood, drawing Harry's attention to her. "What happened that you can't let your mother see?"

Avoiding her eyes, Harry said, "Just like we've discussed. I saved their lives. But it's not something my mother needs to see," he added.

Hermione stared at him, frowning when he continued to avoid meeting her gaze with his. Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and walked outside, leaving Harry to extract the memory for Dumbledore.

* * *

Scarcely a minute after Dumbledore left Harry alone in his hospital room, his mother appeared at the edge of the blue curtain. She was smiling—a real one this time—and moved forward when her son waved her over.

Lily sat on the bed next to Harry and looked into his eyes for a long moment, her own worried and more than a little sad as she gazed at her son. Placing one hand over his on the bed, she said, "I'm sorry. I can't believe what I said to you." As Harry began to interrupt, she shook her head. "No, Harry. Let me speak. I know you're going through a lot right now and I never should've told you what I was thinking. To be honest, I didn't realize you'd be awake. I wasn't at all prepared. I had barely gotten myself together before I came in, let alone thought about how this is affecting you. I just didn't know how to…I still don't know how to approach you. You can't begin to understand how difficult all of this is for me."

She shrugged and Harry noticed the sudden glisten in her eyes. "If you can believe it, Hermione yelled at me in the hall a few minutes ago." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't blame her. I wasn't thinking. If I'd known you would believe I don't love you—"

"So, you didn't mean what you said?" Harry asked. He'd restrained from interrupting as long as he could, but as his mother stumbled over and around her explanation, he couldn't help asking her to finally quell the doubts that had plagued him since they'd spoken earlier. Unfortunately, the way her eyes dropped from his did nothing to reassure him.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," Lily said gently. "I do love you. But I have to get to know you as you are now, not as…" She glanced at the curtain. "I need time to adjust. This is all still new for me. I have to learn to love all new things about you and let go of the past," she said, lowering her eyes.

It wasn't just his own past in this life that she had to let go of, but Harry couldn't bring himself to say as much. He wanted too badly to feel some acceptance from the woman before him, he didn't dare to so much as raise his voice again.

"To tell the truth," she began, "I feel like I've lost almost everything in the past few days." Lily turned to Harry. "Your father was once the most important person in my life and the way the died was so…_inhumane_," she whispered. "I don't know if you know the details, but—"

"You don't have to talk about it," Harry said.

"No," Lily said. "I need to tell you this. It's hard for me to believe someone I loved could be so deliberately cruel and I couldn't see what kind of person he was." Tears spilled out of the bright green eyes and Lily paused, gulping in air. "For so long, I made myself believe if I just put everything I had into my marriage, you would eventually see what a good person he was, how much he really loved all of us, and we could be a family." She swallowed hard.

"What I said earlier wasn't a slight against you, in spite of how it may have sounded. You've only been here a short time and none of what happened—none of the choices he made—are your fault. I'm just angry and disappointed with myself because I let Severus get to me. Whatever your behavior the past few years, or even the past two weeks, I should've known better than to listen to someone who told me I couldn't trust my own son. I'll never forgive myself for doubting you."

Harry nodded. "Have you said that?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the curtain. "Have you talked?"

Lily smiled. "Remarkably understanding, in spite of the confusion of the situation."

"Does he know? I mean, do I? That there are two of us?"

"No," Lily said. "Hermione thought it would be best not to tell…not to get into exactly how everything happened Saturday and I agree with her. Besides, you are still healing. The stress of hearing the details of the past couple of weeks might be too much. This is complex enough for those of us that are equipped to handle it."

"What's going to happen to me?" Harry asked. "I know we can't really live here at the same time."

"Minister Dumbledore has told me he will take care of it when the time is right," Lily responded. "He's going to give me a chance to say goodbye and then store all of your memories and…take care of it." She pointed at him. "_You_ can stay exactly as you are."

"Take care of it how?" Harry asked. Suddenly, it occurred to him that his other self was going to be executed in some fashion.

"I didn't ask," Lily said. "At this point, as long as you're healthy, little else matters to me." Her hand went to his shoulder and squeezed. "I know everything you did in the past was for me and I want you to know it was not in vain. Sirius told me what he said to you earlier. I wish he hadn't done that." She looked away from him briefly. "I don't blame you for anything."

"I never thought you did, but you shouldn't blame yourself either."

"I should have seen something," Lily said, wiping at her wet cheeks. "I knew Severus better than anyone and I didn't have the first clue what he was. It was my job to protect you and I didn't do that."

Harry put his arms around his mother. "Don't blame yourself," he whispered. "I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you earlier. I'm sorry if what I said Saturday made you think it was your fault. If he was able to fool you, it's because he had no conscience about what he was doing, not because of anything you did wrong." Harry took a deep breath and squeezed his mother as he said, "Your capacity to love is not a weakness. It may even be your greatest strength."

Lily smiled as she pulled back from the hug. "That sounds like something the Minister would say."

Harry shrugged. "It's true. If you didn't have this ability to love so deeply, you wouldn't have been able to save me."

Lily traced the lightning-bolt scar on her son's forehead with trembling fingers. "Not that much is different, Harry. If I had to, I would still give my life to save you or your sister."

"How is Raven?" he asked. "I don't imagine you've brought her to the hospital to see me, in either bed."

His mother shook her head. "I don't know what to do." Lily wiped at one eye quickly. "I haven't told her anything except that there was an accident at the school Saturday and we had to leave. It was so hard to get her to calm down after she saw the condition you were in at Hogwarts. She knows you're fine now, but I don't know how to tell her about her father." She looked down. "I can't tell her what he did. She's too young to understand most of it and she wouldn't believe he was capable of it if she knew the truth."

Lily grabbed Harry's hand. "You have to promise me something. No matter what happens, you cannot talk badly about him in front of Raven. Ever. He was her hero. She can never know what he did to you or James."

"Or what he'd been planning," Harry added.

"A Death Eater," she said, shaking her head. "The details of their plans have been kept out of the _Prophet_ as well as most of what happened Saturday. Except for the people who were there, all anyone knows is that a Ministry investigation lead to an arrest, several people were hurt, and one died. Your sister can never know the details. No one can."

"Do you?" Harry asked.

Lily tilted her head to the side as she regarded her son. "No," she responded in an emotionless tone. "I have not asked for the specifics. I know you…were involved somehow," she said, closing her eyes briefly. "I'd rather you not tell me what you did, Harry."

He nodded. If her expression was anything to go by, he knew telling her anything of Snape's death would harm the already fragile nature of their beginning relationship. He had no problem keeping the details from her.

"I am curious about what happened to the Auror Tonks, the one you said was impersonating you," Lily said. "Sirius won't tell me the details of her injuries, just that they were numerous and complex. The Minister offered to show me her memory of that afternoon and I'm considering it."

"You shouldn't," Harry responded immediately. "He was torturing her," he whispered. "You don't need to see that."

Lily frowned. "If it'll get a certain image of him out of my head, I may have to. He may have been a loving father to Raven, but I never saw the other Severus Snape. There will be a service for the professor, husband and father at the school tomorrow, but I want to say goodbye to the other one today. Do you understand that?"

Harry nodded. "I want to do it with you, then. I can't let you do that alone."

His mother smiled. "I'll see what I can do about getting a Healer in here to release you." She stood from the bed and began to move away, stopping when Harry grabbed her hand.

"Are we okay?" he asked. "You and I?"

"I can't promise you everything is going to be perfect between us from now on," Lily said. "We both have a lot to deal with. But I am going to try, Harry. I just need you to be patient."

Harry nodded, watching silently as his mother left the room. Patience he could try for, it was time that was lacking. Time he knew he couldn't get back.

* * *

Author's note: The sequel, _Marked_, is up now.

Also, check out the link in my profile for How to Read a Harry Potter Fanfiction where you can discuss and critique this and other stories. Thank you to all of you for reading, and a very special thanks to my reviewers. You kept me going when I had serious doubts about how, or even if, this story would get finished.


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